The Bad Luck Charm
by Titan5
Summary: When an offworld meeting goes awry, John is marked with what Rodney calls a bad luck charm and things just go downhill from there.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of its characters. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

The Bad Luck Charm – Chapter 1 

John eyed the well-worn path he and his team were currently walking, trying to see how far it extended before reaching some form of civilization. They were investigating P3Z-774 at the moment, and the rough, but obviously well used road was a sure indication that people lived here. They had been walking for over half an hour, but it had been pleasant. The temperature was warm, without being hot, and the intermittent shade provided by the scattered trees kept the sun from bearing down too intensely.

McKay suddenly stopped in the middle of the road. "I've got life signs straight ahead, lots of life signs. It must be the village or settlement or whatever passes for a community on this quaint little planet."

John nodded. "Good," he said brightly. "We know we're going the right direction."

McKay sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, the road _was_ a bit of a hint, Colonel."

Not rising to the bait, John continued to smile agreeably as he drawled, "Yes, it was Rodney."

Rodney eyed the colonel suspiciously. "Why are you so cheerful?" John adjusted his sunglasses, making Rodney wish he could see the eyes on the other side of the dark lenses.

"Because, McKay, I'm having a good day and nothing is going to spoil it. The weather is nice, the planet is pleasant, and I have a good feeling about the people." John continued to walk along the path, knowing the others would follow.

A few minutes later they entered the edge of a village that looked a lot like the Athosian settlement before the Wraith had come. Children played around the tent-like dwellings as men and women talked and went about their daily chores. As the team began walking among them, people stopped what they were doing to stare and whisper. John smiled and nodded, trying to determine who, if anyone, was in charge.

"Colonel," said Teyla, nodding to indicate two approaching men.

Sheppard turned to find two men about his height walking toward them. Their clothing was rough, the pants appearing to be tanned animal hide and their loose shirts made of something lighter, similar to cotton. Their expressions were neutral and uncertain.

"Hello, strangers," said the taller of the two men, his light-colored beard matching his closely cropped hair. "I am Eznik and this is Magar. Welcome to the home of the Zarafians. How can we help you?"

John smiled at the men, leaning one arm easily on top of his P90 and giving the impression he was totally relaxed. His team knew the posture was intentionally being displayed to gain the men's trust and in no way reflected his true attitude. "Hi, I'm Lt. Colonel John Sheppard." He waved his free hand to indicate the others as he introduced them. "This is Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, and Dr. Rodney McKay. We're exploring new planets and trying to find people who want to trade and maybe work together against the Wraith."

The two men looked at one another, but they seemed to relax a bit at Sheppard's words. Magar nodded and Eznik turned back to them. "We should take you to Jirair, our leader. He will be interested in hearing what you have to offer. We do not have many trade partners, for our numbers are few these days and we don't have a lot to offer."

Sheppard's grin broadened as he folded his hands together, still resting them on his gun. "We'd be honored to meet this Jarair. We don't have a lot of trade partners either, so we're always looking for new friends."

Eznik finally smiled and finished relaxing his shoulders. "Come with me, please, and I will show you."

A few steps later, they entered a large, centrally located hut that seemed less mobile than the tents around it. A large table with roughly-carved chairs occupied the middle of the room. Smaller tables and shelf-like structures were scattered against the outside wall. Two older men and one woman sat at the table, deep in a discussion. They stopped and looked up as the group approached them.

"Jarair, I apologize for interrupting your meeting, but these newcomers wish to discuss trade with us."

The gray-haired man at the head of the table stood up and nodded to Eznik. "We are always pleased to meet new friends. I am Jarair, leader of the Zarafians. This is Sahak," he said, indicating the plump, balding man next to him. Turning to a slight woman with long gray hair and dark eyes, he placed his hand on her shoulder. "And this is Karyan. Together we make up the council of the elders, which just means we're the oldest ones here, so they let us pretend to be in charge." His eyes danced and the corners of his mouth twitched as he looked to Eznik.

"Now, Jarair, you know that isn't true," retorted the man. "The whole village respects your wisdom and leadership."

Jarair smiled widely. "Yes, I know. An old man must have his fun. But I am being rude to our guests. Please come in and sit down."

John stepped forward and introduced them all again as they took seats at the table. Magar entered with two women, who went about setting drinks in front of each person at the table.

Jarair motioned to the pottery style cups in front of them. "Drink, you must be thirsty. Did you come through the ring of the Ancestors?"

John nodded as he eyed the amber liquid in the cup and then sipped. It had a slightly fruity flavor, similar to a light grape juice. He smiled and nodded his appreciation of the drink.

"This drink has a good flavor," said Teyla.

Karyan smiled at her. "It is the from the tabari berry and is one of our favorites. I am glad that you like it as well."

Teyla nodded. "We appreciate your hospitality. We are looking for trade partners. Are you interested in such?"

"Where are you from and what do you desire to trade for?" asked Sahak.

"We've . . . had to move around lately. Our original base was destroyed," said Sheppard, being purposefully vague. He had no plans to tell them they lived in Atlantis, but if it came up, he wanted to maintain the image that the city had been destroyed. "We have secured a steady source of food, but we lack in fresh fruits and vegetables, and meat if you have it to trade."

"The forests provide these things abundantly and we grow some additional things here in the village. We would be more than happy to share with your people. And what would you offer us in return?"

Rodney placed a power bar on the table. "We have foods that are packaged and do not spoil. They're easy to carry with you when you travel, if you need such a thing. And we have medicines that fight sickness and infection."

Jirair picked up the power bar and turned it over in his hands, examining the package.

"Go ahead. Open it and try it if you want," said John. "We call those power bars. It's not really a meal, but it's something to eat when you're in a hurry and out in the field. It helps keep you going. We also have full meals, packaged and easily transported like that is. They aren't the best tasting things, but if you have any need for meals that are easy to transport, we have plenty of them."

Jirair tore the packaging open and broke off a bit of the power bar, passing the remainder on to the others as he tentatively took a bite. His eyes widened and he smiled, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, yes, this is good. Our hunting parties are often gone several days and these foods would be of great use. What are these medicines that you speak of?"

"Well," said John, feeling hopeful about the direction the discussion was going, "we have medicines that fight many sicknesses and others to give people with cuts or other injuries that keeps the wound from getting infected." He sensed the confusion of the three elders. "Infection. That's when the injury gets red and hot and makes the person very ill."

The three nodded as they began to understand. "Yes, we know of what you speak. It doesn't happen often, but we have lost people to such . . . infection."

John smiled and looked over at his teammates before returning his gaze to Jirair. "Sounds like we might have the makings of a trade agreement."

Jirair laughed and smacked John on the shoulder. "Yes, it does at that. We must celebrate. Eznik, tell the women to prepare a feast of celebration so that we may get to know our new friends better."

Eznik bowed and hurried from the hut. John turned to McKay, broad grin stretched across his face. "See, I told you this was a good day."

oOo

John's radio came to life shortly after the large, rather excited mid-day meal. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Atlantis. Did you find anything yet?" asked Elizabeth.

John had been expecting the transmission, so had wandered away from the group to a quiet, more secluded spot. "This is Sheppard. We've contacted some people called the Zarafians and they are very interested in a trade agreement. They just fed us and they have quite a large selection of fruits and vegetables that they primarily harvest from the surrounding forests."

"You actually sound excited, John. You haven't offered weapons, have you?"

John rolled his eyes, even though he knew she couldn't see it. It was automatic at the weapons comments and he no longer was even aware he did it. "No, we offered medicines, power bars, and MREs. Is that okay?"

"Yes, that's acceptable. How long do you think you'll be there?"

"I'm not sure. They still want to show us some things. They're very friendly, unlike some of the people we've met in this galaxy. We'll hammer out the specifics, or at least make arrangements to do so, and return by dark."

"All right, we'll see you tonight then. You did good, John."

John couldn't help but smile that she seemed pleased with what they'd accomplished. It felt good to make new friends instead of new enemies for a change. "Thanks. Sheppard out." John made his way back to the group, a large satisfied grin on his face.

By mid afternoon, the Atlantis team was very comfortable with the Zarafians. Some of the men showed Ronon and Sheppard how they fished from the lake near their village. McKay worked with a group that purified the river water for drinking. Although he had been surprised at the efficiency of their system, he gave them suggestions for how to make it even more effective. Teyla had been surrounded by some of the women who were impressed that she was a warrior. After she showed them some moves in stick fighting, they insisted she teach them a few. She was very impressed at how quickly they picked up the forms.

It was late afternoon before they all gathered again in the central area of the village, swapping stories of what they had learned.

"Well, I think we'd better get back and let Elizabeth know we have some new trade partners," said John. Seeing the confusion in the face of the elders, he explained. "Elizabeth is the name of our leader."

"You are not the leader?" asked Jirair.

"Well, not exactly. I guess you could say I'm the second in command. I'm in charge of the military part of our group, the soldiers."

"Ah, I see," said Jirair. "I hope this Elizabeth will be pleased. I do have one more thing I'd like to show you before you leave. I think Dr. McKay might be interested in this. It won't take long."

John saw Rodney's eyebrows shoot up at the prospect of something scientific. He tried to subdue his smile as he turned to Jirair. "Okay, lead the way."

The three elders directed the team down a smaller, less worn path. Several men from the village followed as they walked through the trees. As they walked, John's hand accidentally brushed against the arm of Karyan. She jerked her arm away as if she'd been burned, startling John.

"I'm sorry," he said, not sure why she had reacted in such a way. Her eyes held an expression that was a mixture of fear and hatred.

"You are different than the others," she said quietly.

John, confused, didn't know what to say. "Uh, different? In what way?"

"I do not know yet, but I sense something in you that is not in the others."

Just then, the trees opened up to reveal what looked like a small building. It looked beyond the technology of the tents and huts of the village.

"Rodney?" asked John.

Rodney already had his scanner out. "No energy readings, Colonel. If there's an energy source, it's either dead or powered down."

Jirair looked at his guests, seemingly pleased at their interest. "We believe this building to have been left by the Ancestors, but we cannot be certain. No one in the village has ever been able to gain access. It has been here a very long time."

"We have found many items and buildings left by the Ancestors," said Teyla. "They were a great people."

Jirair's expression suddenly hardened. "A great people? Hardly. According to our history, they were allies of those who came before us. But they abandoned our people when the Wraith became strong. They left us to be culled, to fend for ourselves. There is nothing honorable about the Ancestors."

John looked back at his teammates, suddenly very glad that none of them had mentioned Atlantis. "Well, this is very nice, but it's getting late and we really need to get back." He had a bad feeling that their pleasant and productive day was about to head south and he wanted to avoid it if he could.

Karyan suddenly grabbed John's arm and drug him toward the building. The action caught him off guard and he stumbled forward, straight through the doorway that opened for him. The lights inside immediately came on.

"I knew it! I knew he was different," screamed Karyan. "He is of the Ancestors. They must leave. They must leave now!"

John just stood with his mouth open, stunned at how things could go from almost perfect to perfectly disastrous in a matter of seconds. All because of the ATA gene. He never had figured out if it was a blessing or a curse, but right now he was leaning heavily toward curse.

John held his hands out defensively as the three elders surrounded him. He could see his team taking a guarded stance behind the ring of natives. "Now look, it's not what you think. I don't have anything to do with the Ancestors. That was a long time ago and we aren't them."

"He is of the Ancestors, I can feel it. He must go. Get him off the planet," screamed Karyan.

Jirair held his hand out for Karyan to be quiet. He then turned to John. "I am very sorry, but she is right. No one who is of the Ancestors can be allowed on the planet. They betrayed our people a long time ago and it is now in our law. We will not let ourselves be deceived again. You and your people must leave now and there will be no trade agreement between our people."

"But we aren't trying to deceive you," John pleaded. "We honor our commitments, we aren't them."

Jirair shook his head. "I will hear no more. These men will escort you to the gate and you will leave. You will not return or we will be forced to harm you." Jirair turned and left, Sahak close on his heels. Karyan walked up to John and laughed bitterly before joining the others.

John looked forlornly at the rest of his team. "I'm sorry, guys."

"Not your fault," said Ronon. "They are an unreasonable people. We don't need them."

John sighed and began leading his group to the gate, several armed men from the village following right behind them. They walked for almost an hour, the light fading by the time the ring came into view. They were within a few feet when Karyan came out from the trees and walked up to two of the villagers as Rodney dialed home.

They all watched uneasily as Karyan and the two villagers approached John. He stepped forward to meet them, refusing to be intimidated. "I don't suppose you've changed your mind about us. You know, if it's just me you don't like, you could trade with the others and I could just stay home."

Karyan narrowed her eyes at him, glaring at him with intense hatred. They stood silently a few seconds as the wormhole engaged. "Sheppard, let's go," called Ronon.

Suddenly, the two villagers grabbed Sheppard's arms and Karyan pulled the neck of his shirt down with her left hand and jabbed him in the upper chest with her right before quickly stepping back. As Ronon and Teyla brought their guns up, the village men released Sheppard's arms, causing him to lose his balance and stumble back.

"You will suffer the curse of Keir! Evil will beset you as long as you wear the mark." Karyan began to laugh hysterically as she headed down the path to the village, the men falling in line behind her."

John was aware of intense burning where she had touched him. It was hot and cold at the same time, similar to what he imagined being cut by sharp ice would feel like. He swayed, his heart racing wildly as his hand came up to his lower neck and upper chest, feeling for the wound he knew had to be there. But his hand came away dry. There was no blood.

"Are you all right?"

He looked up into Teyla's face, confused. It burned, so how could there be no wound. "What did she do?" he asked, his voice sounding hoarse and strangled.

His teammates stood staring as he forced himself move his hand away from the site. Rodney frowned. "It looks like she drew on you with black paint or something. It's a line about two inches long with a loop on the end. Why would she do that?"

John swallowed hard, feeling like something was trapped in his esophagus, blocking the passage. He looked up to see the backs of the villagers fading in the darkness as they headed back to their settlement. "Let's get out of here. Suddenly this place is not very appealing." He turned and led the way through the gate.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**NOTE:** I have a suggestion - be careful what you name your stories. It took hours yesterday to load chapter one and it's taken almost that long today to get fanfiction to let me load chapter 2. I'm starting to get worried.

The Bad Luck Charm – Chapter 2

Elizabeth noticed Sheppard's agitated state as soon as he walked through the gate. Everyone in the gateroom was soon aware of it as they watched him pace several tight circles in the seconds it took the rest of his team to emerge from the glimmering puddle. As the wormhole shut down, he made his way across the room, meeting Elizabeth at the bottom of the steps.

"There's no agreement, we won't be trading," he said shortly.

Elizabeth's eyes widened at the announcement. "But when we radioed earlier, it was a done deal. What happened?"

"Me," he said bluntly.

"What did you do?" Elizabeth asked slowly while narrowing her eyes.

"It wasn't his fault, actually," said Rodney. "They apparently don't like the Ancients very well and the Colonel got duped into activating some lights."

"They threw us out after that," said Ronon. "Not very hospitable, if you ask me."

Elizabeth noticed Sheppard vigorously rubbing the base of his neck. "John, are you injured?"

"No," he replied nervously, an edgy quality in his voice that she rarely heard. "Can we debrief later, there's something I need to do?"

Elizabeth was watching him closely now, trying to evaluate his odd behavior. She noticed his teammates watching him as well. "That's fine, but I want you to see Carson for your post-mission check."

"In a minute," he called over his shoulder as he quickly left the room. He broke into a run as soon as he reached the hall, his heart pounding so fast in his chest he couldn't distinguish between the beats. He had no explanation for the sense of panic that completely engulfed him. The mark no longer burned, but he was frantic to remove it.

Elizabeth turned back to the team after John left the room. "Would anyone like to enlighten me on what that was about?"

"The Zarafians are angry with the Ancestors for abandoning their people when the Wraith became too strong," Teyla explained. "They were very open to trade negotiations until the Colonel accidentally activated some lights in an old building they took us to. One of their leaders, a woman named Karyan, was very upset with the Colonel. I believe she could somehow sense the gene in Colonel Sheppard."

"I agree that she seemed to know that he had the gene. It was almost like she knew ahead of time that he would activate things and once he did, she began to scream like a clarnon," observed Ronon.

"A what?" asked Rodney, frowning at Ronon.

"I believe that is similar to your saying of _scream like a banshee,_" explained Teyla.

"Do you think she can sense the Ancient gene like Teyla can sense the Wraith?" asked Weir, frowning a bit as she tried to make sense of what had happened.

"Perhaps," said Teyla. "I believe she came into contact with the Colonel before we reached the ruins and reacted in a strange way. I heard her say he was different than the rest of us."

Weir nodded. "Well, I get the part about the trade negotiations going haywire, but why is John acting so . . . strange?"

"He's cursed," said Rodney innocently. When they all turned to look at him, his expression became almost embarrassed. "Well, he is. That Karyan lady met us at the gate and jabbed her finger at Sheppard, painted this doohickey thing on his chest and said that evil would befall him, or something similar."

Elizabeth arched one eyebrow as she stared at Rodney. "She painted something on him? Like what? He kept rubbing it like it hurt or itched or something."

"I believe she said the mark would bring evil upon him until it is gone," filled in Teyla.

"Meaning when it wears off, I assume," said Elizabeth.

"I believe that is correct," answered Teyla.

"Okay," said Elizabeth. "Go ahead and let Carson do your post-mission check and tell him to let me know if John doesn't show up soon."

The three teammates nodded and left the gateroom, heading for the infirmary.

oOo

John began pulling clothes off the minute he stepped in his quarters, leaving a trail all the way to the bathroom. He immediately got into the shower, making the water as hot as he could stand it as he grabbed the soap and began scrubbing at the mark. He had glanced it in the mirror and it was just as Rodney had described, beginning in the hollow between his collar bones and extending down about two inches to an oval loop on the end. He rubbed at it until his arms were exhausted and he'd scraped most of the skin from a large circular area around the mark, which was still as dark as when he started.

Giving up, he turned off the water and dried, staring at the reflection in the mirror. Carson wouldn't be too happy when he saw what he'd done to himself. Suddenly, he felt silly and juvenile instead of the panic that had previously filled him. He couldn't believe he'd just run down the hall to scrub off some painted mark that would fade in a few days. He realized he'd better get to the infirmary before they sent someone after him.

He was just pulling his t-shirt over his head when his radio went off. He picked it up and put it on, adjusting it against his still damp hair. "Sheppard here."

"_Colonel, I believe you are due in the infirmary," _came Carson's slightly scolding voice.

"Sorry, Doc, I'm on my way," replied Sheppard as he headed for the door. Might as well get this over with, he thought.

When he entered the infirmary a few minutes later, he was surprised to see his team still there. He was a little dismayed when he remembered his behavior in the gateroom and figured they were there to see if he'd completely lost his mind. "Hey, guys," he said nonchalantly, trying to put them at ease.

Beckett crossed his arms and looked at him critically. "Colonel, you're a wee bit late for your post-mission check. Where have you been?"

John shrugged his shoulders, still trying to give the impression that nothing was amiss. "Took a shower. I thought you might appreciate cleanliness for a change."

"Did it come off?" asked Rodney pointedly, trying to peer over the edge of Sheppard's t-shirt.

"Did what come off?" asked John innocently.

Rodney rolled his eyes and sighed. "The bad luck charm that crazy old lady put on your chest, what else?"

"Bad luck charm?" said Teyla inquisitively.

"Yeah, something that brings bad luck, makes bad things happen to you, turns a really good day into a really bad day, you know," explained Rodney. He turned back to Sheppard as he reached for the colonel's shirt. "Well, did it wash off?"

John slapped Rodney's outstretched hand, causing the scientist to yelp. "No, it didn't wash off," he finally admitted. "It's no big deal, though, there's no such thing as a bad luck charm."

Rodney laughed. "Yeah, that's why you tore out of the gate room and ran all the way to your shower."

John could feel the color beginning to creep up his neck. "I did _not_ run . . . I just walked quickly. Anyway, it was burning and I wanted it off."

"It burned?" asked Beckett, his posture instantly straitening as a medical problem presented itself. "We'd better have a look at it then," he said, patting the exam bed.

John walked past the others to sit on the bed as the doctor directed. Beckett pulled the neck of his shirt out to look at the mark a few seconds before letting it go. "Take your shirt off, Colonel, so I can get a better look."

John looked around at the audience awaiting his obedient clothing removal. "This is not a spectator sport," he said gruffly, pulling the shirt over his head.

"Nothing we haven't seen before, Sheppard," retorted Ronon.

"That's not the point," said Sheppard petulantly as he tossed his shirt to one side. He tried to relax as Beckett poked and prodded the mark and the reddened area around it.

In the bright light of the infirmary, the mark was still black, but when the light was reflected off it at a certain angle, it had an iridescent green quality to it. The area around the mark had been rubbed raw and was red to the point of almost bleeding.

"You really did a good job of abrading the skin around the mark," commented Beckett. "I wish you had come here first and we could have aided your attempt without removing all the skin in the area. This is going to be tender for a few days. I'd better put some ointment on it for you." Beckett moved away to get the medication he had talked about.

"You must have been pretty desperate to get that thing off," said Rodney, still looking at the damaged skin.

"I told you, Rodney, it was burning."

Rodney smiled mischievously. "I'll bet it's really burning now."

"You can leave any time now, McKay," said Sheppard sharply.

"Testy!" said McKay, trying not to grin too widely. "What's a matter, Colonel? Having bad luck today?"

"Not as bad as yours is about to get," replied Sheppard.

"Oh," said Rodney, suddenly not looking quite so smug. "What did you have in mind?"

John smiled for the first time since arriving back in Atlantis. "I'll show you after dinner."

"Gee, I can hardly wait," Rodney said sarcastically.

oOo

"So what's going on after dinner?" asked Rodney nervously as he followed John through the chow line in the mess hall.

"Actually, nothing bad. Just a movie in the rec room. We even have popcorn."

Rodney looked relieved. "Oh, okay, a movie. That's good. We need to unwind after the last hour on that crazy planet. We should have known it was too good to be true. What's the movie?"

"It's a surprise. Why is it so hot in here?" asked John, fanning himself for a few seconds.

"Hot? It's not hot in here. Is there anything good up there, because so far I'm not impressed."

"Hey, potato salad! They never have potato salad." John reached forward and grabbed a small dish of the vegetable.

Rodney looked over his shoulder. "Where did you get that? I don't see another one."

John looked around for a few seconds before shaking his head. "It's the only one McKay. Sorry."

McKay pouted. He never got the good stuff. Someone ahead of him always seemed to take the last dish of whatever he wanted. "Come on, Sheppard, I'll give you my dessert."

John chuckled. "Dessert tonight is lemon pie. You'll give me your dessert anyway."

"Not necessarily," said Rodney defensively. "I could give it to Ronon. At least he's not threatening me, not today anyway."

"Do whatever you want, Rodney, but that crazy lady made my good day go down the toilet and I need something to go my way, even if it's just getting the last potato salad."

"Fine, fine, take the potato salad. I guess you're entitled to a last meal before the evil besets you."

"Gee . . . thanks, Rodney."

oOo

By the time the movie had started, the rec room was almost full and several large bowls of popcorn were being passed around. Sheppard had waited all day to see Rodney's expression when the scientist realized what the entertainment was to be. He knew Rodney hated _Back to the Future_, but he had always loved the movie, and he had lined up a double feature of the first two. John, however, hardly noticed Rodney or anyone else as the first movie started, because the rolling cramps in his gut had also started. He sat on the couch, arms wrapped around his middle, trying not to retch when the popcorn smell hit him in the face.

Twenty minutes into the film, John got up and slipped out the door, trying not to trip on anyone. He leaned against the wall a second and doubled over, trying to relieve the ever-increasing pain in his stomach. When he'd caught his breath, he straightened and began the long walk to his quarters, hoping he made it before he lost the battle to keep dinner in his stomach.

"Colonel?"

John turned to find Teyla sliding quietly out of the rec room. "Hey Teyla, don't you like the movie?" He struggled to remain straight and sound normal, not wanting to worry her.

Teyla walked up and put her hand on his arm, her concerned face searching his pained one. "You are ill, Colonel?"

John smiled and patted her hand. "It's nothing. Something I ate is agreeing with my stomach about like Rodney always got along with Kavanagh. I'm just going back to my room to lie down."

Teyla looked surprised. "You're hands are cold."

John withdrew his hand from hers. "Sorry, I got cold sitting in there. I guess someone turned the air up so it wouldn't get hot with all those people."

Teyla nodded, although she had not felt cold. She thought maybe Sheppard had been closer to the air vent than she had been. "I can walk with you, if you like."

"No, I'm fine. I'd really rather you watch the movies and let me know tomorrow how you liked them."

Teyla nodded, but still seemed hesitant. "All right, if you are certain. But I will stop by after the movie to check on you, if that meets with your approval."

John nodded. He didn't particularly want any visitors tonight, but he really needed to get away and head for his room before his stomach became violent. "That's fine, Teyla. I'll see you later and I hope you enjoy the movies." John turned and walked quickly down the hall, trying not to bounce too much as he moved.

oOo

"How did you like the movies, Dr. McKay?" asked Teyla as she left the rec room with him and Ronon.

"They were just as stupid and ridiculous as the first time I saw them." Rodney looked around at the crowd of people slowly exiting the room. "Where'd Sheppard get off to? I have a thing or two to say to him, since I'm sure he's responsible for this."

"He left shortly after the movies began. He was ill, so he returned to his room. I am going there now to check on him if you and Ronon would like to accompany me."

Rodney frowned at Teyla. "What's wrong with him?"

"I believe his stomach was hurting him. He said something he ate did not agree with him." Teyla decided John's exact description would probably not be appreciated by Dr. McKay.

"There's Dr. Strauhan. Maybe he should come with us," observed Ronon. The other two looked in the direction he indicated to find Nick and Kelly leaving the room.

"Dr. Strauhan," called Rodney, moving over to get closer to the doctor.

"Hi, Dr. McKay," the physician said. "Is there a problem?"

"Teyla just told us Sheppard left the movies a while ago sick to his stomach and we were about to go check on him. We, uh, wondered if you might come along to make sure he's okay."

Nick's smile slowly evaporated and his brow creased slightly. "Yeah, I'll go. We can't have the colonel getting sick on us." He looked at Kelly. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, of course not. If we don't go, you know we'll both just worry." Kelly flashed Nick a big grin, letting him know that she really didn't mind. They had both become rather fond of Sheppard and his team, probably because they seemed to spend so much quality time with them. Nick and Sheppard had particularly hit it off, with the colonel being the one who had encouraged Nick to ask Kelly out instead of just swooning behind her back.

"Okay, let's go. Do any of you know what he ate for supper tonight?" Nick was already wishing he had his medical bag.

"I know he had chicken and the Athosian beans, but so did Teyla and I, and we're fine," said Ronon.

"I believe he had two pieces of the lemon pie," offered Teyla.

"He most certainly did," agreed Rodney. "I gave him my piece since I can't eat lemon and he still wouldn't even share the potato salad. Said there wasn't very much of it."

"Wait a minute," said Nick. "We had potato salad for lunch, not supper."

"We were off world at lunch. There must have been some left, because I was right behind him in line and he got potato salad."

"Teyla and I were ahead of him in line and we didn't see any potato salad," said Ronon.

McKay sighed loudly. "Oh please, do you even know what potato salad is?"

Ronon growled as he walked closer to Rodney. "I know what potato salad is, McKay, and I'm telling you I didn't see any out."

Rodney cringed and moved across the hall to walk with Nick between him and Ronon. "Well, I saw him pick up a bowl of potato salad and eat it for supper. That's all I'm saying."

"Ronon," said Teyla. "I did not see any when we were in line either, but now that I think back, I do believe I saw some on the colonel's tray."

"There you go," said Rodney defensively.

Nick and Kelly exchanged a look. "If that was left out from lunch all afternoon, we're probably looking at food poisoning," said Nick.

"I'm going to run down to the mess hall and see if I can find anyone who knows if they had potato salad left from lunch and if anyone remembers putting it up or putting it back out for supper," said Kelly.

Nick nodded his appreciation. "Thanks, hon. I'll meet you in the infirmary when you find something out. I have a feeling that's where we'll end up."

They reached Sheppard's door a few minutes later and knocked. They didn't get an answer, so Rodney opened the door. The first thing they noticed was the sour smell of sickness that permeated the air in the dark room. The second thing to get their attention as Rodney wrinkled his nose was the sound of retching from the bathroom. Nick led the way to the open doorway, light from inside filtering out into the bedroom.

They were just in time to see John slump across the toilet seat as he finished dry heaving. He groaned softly, his face resting against his arm. Nick knelt beside Sheppard while Teyla grabbed a rag and began to wet it.

"Colonel Sheppard," said Nick softly, placing a hand on John's shoulder. "Guess I don't have to ask you how you're feeling."

"Like crap," John whispered.

"Teyla said you left just a few minutes into the first movie. Have you been vomiting all this time?" Nick took the rag Teyla offered him and passed it to Sheppard, who lifted his head long enough to wipe his face.

"Among other things," he said with disdain.

Nick smiled down at the ailing colonel. "I think you may have food poisoning, so we need to get you to the infirmary. If it is, this could go on a while and you'll probably get dehydrated."

"I'd rather die in private if you don't mind," said Sheppard, holding the cool rag against his hot skin. "This is humiliating enough, thank you."

"Colonel . . . John, I know it's embarrassing to have an audience when you're sick, but we need to keep an eye on this. Food poisoning can become serious if it's not watched closely. You'll be losing fluids and probably won't be able to hold anything down for a while. We'll need to set you up on an IV. I'm also worried about you running back and forth to the bathroom as you get weaker with no one here to help you."

"I'll be fine," John said stubbornly. He winced suddenly and hunched over, holding his stomach against the intense cramping. A few seconds later he was retching into the toilet again, although very little was left to come up. When he was done, he leaned with his forehead against the seat, his hands wrapped around his torso.

"John, we can give you something to help the nausea. It won't make it go away, but it might make it a little more bearable." Nick wanted to convince Sheppard to come to the infirmary willingly, but he'd already made up his mind he was coming. At this point, they didn't know for sure it was food poisoning and even if it was, they didn't know if it was an Earth variety or a Pegasus variety.

John managed to lift his head and they all thought it seemed to take every bit of energy he possessed. His face was pale and drawn and didn't look anything like the face of the man they had come through the gate with a few hours ago. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

Nick patted his back sympathetically. "Not about something like this."

John nodded. "Okay, I'll go."

Nick took John's arm and helped him to his feet. They slowly made their way out of the bathroom, with John leaning a bit on Nick. John pointed to the wastebasket in the corner. "We'd probably better bring that. It's a long way to the infirmary from here and I don't know if I . . . oh, crap." John pulled away and moved quickly back to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Rodney looked at Nick, his eyes wide. "Should we . . . oh . . . uh, I'll wait outside . . . in the hall." Rodney was beginning to look a little pale as he quickly opened the door and left the room.

Nick sighed. "I have a feeling this is going to be a long night."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The Bad Luck Charm – Chapter 3

Elizabeth glanced around as she entered the infirmary, spotting John's bed almost immediately. Carson and Nick were helping the pilot into bed, shouldering most of his weight while a nurse held the covers back. Nick helped John as he rolled over onto his side while Carson managed the IV line and the nurse brought the blankets up to the sick man's chest. She watched for a few minutes as they talked to John and got him settled. Carson finally spotted her and said something to Nick before heading her way.

"How is he?" she asked when Carson was close enough. "Is it really food poisoning?"

The stubble on the doctor's face told her that Carson had been called back in during the night and had never left after that. His eyes were tired and his expression grim. "Aye, and a nasty case at that. He's got the normal symptoms for food poisoning, but they seem to be a bit extreme. Nothing we've done has given him any relief. He's been up and down every few minutes all night long. He can hardly stand."

Elizabeth frowned. "Are there any other cases?" She was already scanning the infirmary, but other than Sheppard, only two other beds were occupied. Half the base down with food poisoning would not be good.

"No, thank goodness. And there shouldn't be any more cases. We've isolated the cause. Apparently there was one helping of potato salad left from lunch yesterday and no one saw it when they cleaned up. The colonel got hold of it after it had set out all afternoon unrefrigerated. It's very odd though. No one else in the line last night saw the potato salad except for Colonel Sheppard."

"Have you asked him about it?" asked Elizabeth, thinking surely they had.

"Aye, he doesn't remember exactly where it was. Just remembers seeing it in the food line and grabbing it. He's been a wee bit too occupied to press the matter."

"Anything else odd about this?"

"His temperature is all over the place. It's common to have a fever and chills with food poisoning, but his temperature is up and then down and then back up again. I'm starting to wonder if the microbes that cause food poisoning in the Pegasus Galaxy aren't a might souped up compared to the Earth versions."

Elizabeth looked worriedly over Carson's shoulder to John, curled up in a tight ball as he lay on the infirmary bed. He looked small and frail from across the room. "He's going to be okay, isn't he?"

Carson nodded. "I think so, but he's going to be miserable for another few hours to a few days. I'm not sure how long the Pegasus variety lasts, but I hope it's not too much longer." Carson dared a small smile. "He's already asked me to shoot him three times."

Elizabeth nodded. "I've always heard if food poisoning doesn't kill you, it'll make you wish it did. Can I see him for a minute?"

"Aye, it might take his mind off things for a wee bit. Don't stay too long, though. He's exhausted."

Elizabeth walked over to John's bed and sat down in the chair beside it so she could see him better. He was still on his side, his knees drawn up to his chest, his eyes closed.

"John," she said softly, not wanting to wake him if he'd drifted off to sleep.

"Go away," he whispered.

"I will if you really want me to," she said.

John opened his eyes. "Oh . . . hey, Elizabeth. Thought you were the nurse wanting a pulse again."

"And you were going to show her your shining personality?" she said lightly, hoping to cheer him up.

John almost glared at her. "I've been up all night, watching my liquefied insides come spewing out my mouth . . . and other places . . . while gremlins tied my intestines into knots and used them for rope swings. You do all that with a smile on your face and then we'll talk." He clenched his knees more tightly to his chest and held his breath through the next wave of cramps, sweat popping out across his forehead.

Elizabeth leaned forward and found herself holding onto his hand, trying to offer reassurance when she knew there was none to be had. "I'm sorry, John. I wish I could do something."

John relaxed a little as the wave passed and the pain eased. He was panting lightly. "S'okay. Sorry . . . feel like crap."

"I know, and I'm sorry for teasing. I was trying to make you feel better. Guess I might as well give up on improving my bedside manner," she said as she patted his hand. That earned her a half smile on the pale, worn looking face.

"Nah, keep working on it. You'll get it eventually."

"So how did Carson talk you into a gown? I thought for sure you'd insist on scrubs."

"Kept messing them up. Carson said gowns are easier to change. Oh, crap." John closed his eyes and bowed his head into his chest, whimpering as a hard cramp grabbed hold and refused to let up. Elizabeth gripped his hand more firmly and he began gripping back, hanging on for dear life until the pain eased and he could breathe again. He lay panting for a few seconds before looking up at her. "Send Lorne down here with his gun. I have a job for him."

"John, that's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be." His voice and expression were serious and it was beginning to scare her.

"John?"

"Oh, all right, I'm kidding. Well, at least part of me is. Maybe Ronon or Teyla could just knock me unconscious for a while. If I could just sleep for a few minutes without having to . . . " John's expression dropped before taking on a look of panic as he began shoving the covers back with one hand while pressing the call button with the other.

Elizabeth was startled at the response time. Within seconds, Nick and a nurse had John out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, IV in tow. Beckett came up beside her and stood proudly. "It's an art at this point. We've been doing that all night and we don't miss getting him there much any more."

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone that sick before. It's kind of scary."

"Aye, me either. If he doesn't slow down, I'll be putting a second IV line in. As soon as we get some fluids in him, they come back out. His throat is raw from the vomiting and . . . well, enough said."

"I guess I'd better get to my office and do something constructive. Call me if there's any change, good or bad. I'll check back after while. Take good care of him Carson."

"I'm trying, Elizabeth. Believe me, I'm trying."

oOo

John wasn't sure when time had begun to blur, but it had to the point that he had no idea if it was night or day, much less how long he'd been in the infirmary. Agony had become his only companion, even tossing out the likes of modesty and humiliation. The fact that he was now becoming aware of that was a sign he was improving. The pain in his gut and the nausea had eased enough he could even straighten his legs out. He was starting to notice that every muscle in his body felt sore, as if he'd worked out for many hours with both Ronon and Teyla at the same time.

He groaned softly as he shifted, trying to pull the covers more tightly around him. The shivering was definitely not helping.

"Colonel? Are you awake?"

John opened his eyes a slit to see Rodney sitting in the chair beside the bed. He'd moved the seat up closer to the head of the bed, leaving him almost eye to eye with Sheppard as he lay on his right side.

"McKay?" John's mouth was dry and his throat sore, leaving his voice rough and gravely.

Rodney brightened as seeing the pilot was conscious. "Carson said I could sit with you a minute, that you were doing a little better."

"Yeah . . . stomach's beginning to settle. Everyone else okay?" John suddenly realized he'd been too out of it to notice if anyone else had become ill.

"We're all fine. It was the potato salad. Thanks for not sharing, by the way."

"Never eating potato salad again."

Rodney grimaced. "I don't blame you. It wasn't even me that was sick and I don't want any either."

"How long have I been here?"

"We brought you down here night before last and it's almost noon, so about a day and a half. You don't remember?"

"Let's just say my time here has been a bit hazy at best. Everything has just kind of run together."

Rodney watched as John pulled the blanket closer, his body shaking visibly under the covers. "Are you cold?"

"Freezing," he said softly, curling his legs up to conserve body heat.

Rodney brightened, seeing something he could do to help. "I'll have one of the nurses get you another blanket."

"Forget it, they won't give me one. I already asked."

Rodney's mouth dropped open as his brows shot up. "What? Since when? What kind of infirmary is Carson running here, when they won't give sick people a blanket to keep – "

"McKay, it's chills. They won't give me a blanket because I have a fever."

"Oh . . . well, that makes sense, I guess." Rodney still looked slightly miffed.

"You're a scientist. Why does my body temperature being too high make me feel like I'm freezing? That's so not right."

Rodney's expression morphed into one of smugness. "That's why I'm in physics and not biology. I don't think there are any laws for living systems, they just randomly do what they want to do. That's why medicine is not a true science. You just try stuff until something works and then it may or may not work the next time."

"Rodney," John drawled tiredly. "Never mind. I don't have the energy for this."

"Oh, sorry. Hey is it still there, the bad luck charm?" Without waiting for an answer, Rodney leaned forward and pulled the neck of the hospital gown down a bit, revealing the mark on John's chest.

"McKay," he growled as he weakly tried to pull away from the scientist. "It's not a bad luck charm. There's no such thing."

"That's weird," said McKay, continuing to stare at the mark. "I thought it would have started to fade by now."

"Rodney!" came the sharp, Scottish brogue. "What are you doing to my patient?"

Sheppard tried feebly to knock McKay's hand away. "Make him go away," he pleaded.

"I was just looking at his bad luck charm," said McKay defensively, removing his hand from Sheppard's gown. "And I thought he said he had a fever. He doesn't feel hot to me, he feels cold. No wonder he's freezing."

Beckett sighed, but stepped around Rodney to put his hand against Sheppard's forehead and then the side of his face. "You don't feel hot any more. That's odd, you had a temperature of almost 103 just an hour ago." Beckett walked a few steps and retrieved a thermometer, returning to take Sheppard's temperature. "Huh, it's 97 now," he said, looking at the reading.

"Can I have a blanket now?" asked Sheppard, lifting his head off the pillow a little.

"Aye, that you can, Colonel. I'll have Amy bring you one. And then I guess we'll check your temperature every half hour or so from now on." Beckett walked off, mumbling to himself.

"See, I'm good for something," said Rodney.

"Thanks, Rodney. I wonder if I could talk them out of two blankets."

"I'll take care of it," Rodney said cheerfully as he turned and bounced away to find Amy. He returned a few minutes later to find the colonel asleep, so he placed both blankets on the sleeping man's form and tucked them in around him. He smiled as he watched Sheppard sleep, finally feeling like he'd done something helpful.

oOo

Beckett ran his finger along the mark on Sheppard's chest as the pilot sat dressed in scrub pants on the edge of the bed, legs dangling down. "It looks and feels the same to me, Colonel. The abraded area around it is healing nicely, though."

"It's been almost four days. Are you sure it hasn't faded a little?" John asked, trying to look down to see for himself.

Carson leaned back a little and crossed his arms, eyeing Sheppard critically. "You aren't falling for this bad luck charm nonsense that Rodney's been spouting, are you?"

"No, no, of course not," Sheppard said quickly. "I was just . . . I just want it to go away. It's annoying. Fending off Rodney is getting _really_ annoying."

Beckett smiled knowingly. "Aye, I can well imagine. You'll just have to give it a few more days. How's the rest of you feeling?"

Sheppard sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Not bad, still a little achy, but my stomach seems to have settled okay."

Beckett nodded. "The soup from lunch is still doing okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. My stomach is sore, like I did about five hundred sit-ups, but no more nausea or cramps so far."

"Good. Your temperature is still bouncing around like a yo-yo, but at least it's staying closer to normal. You may still have hot and cold spells until it settles, though."

"Hey, is the cursed colonel ready to go, yet?" asked Rodney as he waltzed into the infirmary with Ronon and Teyla right behind him.

"Almost," said Beckett. "Colonel, let me know if there's any more nausea, vomiting, or diarrhea –"

"Doc!" exclaimed Sheppard, his face flushing as he avoided eye contact with his team.

Beckett rolled his eyes. "Oh, get over it colonel, it's not like they don't know what you've been doing in here. Anyway, let me know of there's any recurrence of your symptoms, is that better? Get lots of rest, because as you've probably noticed, that took a lot out of you. Don't be surprised if all you feel like doing is sleeping for another day or two. I'd stick to small meals of relatively bland foods for a few days as well. You're off duty until I tell you otherwise, so take it easy. Do you have any questions?"

"Just one, why are you guys here?"

"We're walking you to your room," said Ronon as if Sheppard should have already known that.

"Why?" John asked hesitantly.

"Dr. Beckett asked if one of us could accompany you," replied Teyla. "We decided that we would all like to come with you as a chance to see that you are recovered. Do you mind?"

John hesitated a few seconds and then slowly shook his head. "No, that's fine, I guess. I just would have thought you guys would have something better to do than walk me to my room like a small child who can't find his way." John turned to Beckett and glared, which the doctor made a show of ignoring.

"All right then, colonel, as soon as you're dressed, you can go." Beckett turned to go as Rodney handed Sheppard the bundle of clothes that he had picked up for the pilot. Sheppard pulled the privacy curtain and emerged dressed a few minutes later. He kept pulling on the waistband of his jeans and finally turned to Rodney.

"McKay, for future reference, you don't bring someone getting over food poisoning a pair of jeans to wear. Something light and stretchy like my running pants would have been nice. My stomach already feels like it's been used for a punching bag."

McKay just looked down at Sheppard's waist and shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't know. I didn't think any of your pants were snug enough to matter."

"Well, these are," Sheppard snapped. They walked for a few seconds before he spoke again. "Sorry, McKay, I'm still . . . off."

"No problem," said McKay, seemingly undisturbed by Sheppard's outburst. "I have a surprise for you in your quarters.

John looked up at Ronon. "What's he been doing in my quarters?"

"No idea," said Ronon. "But I'd be worried if I were you."

"Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence, gentlemen. See if do anything nice for either of you again," grumbled Rodney from behind the men.

Teyla sighed, wondering if all men acted like children most of the time or just the ones she had chosen to align herself with. "I'm sure that whatever Dr. McKay has done, it was done with good intentions."

"Thank you, Teyla. At least one member of this team has manners," whined Rodney.

They reached Sheppard's quarters and he opened the door. He wasn't telling his team, but he was so tired that he honestly didn't care if McKay had totally wrecked his room, as long as the bed was still standing. The bed was definitely standing, and freshly made as well.

"You made my bed?" asked Sheppard.

"I made your bed with freshly washed sheets and blankets," corrected McKay. "I didn't think you wanted to come home to dirty sheets and I figured you'd be spending a lot of time recuperating in bed the next day or two. I also noticed that almost all your clothes were dirty, so I had them done as well. They're folded in the chair there." Rodney pointed to a large pile of folded clothes in one of the chairs by the table.

John was impressed. He hated gathering laundry, which was why nearly everything he owned had been dirty. "Thanks, McKay. I'm sorry I gave you a hard time back there. This is . . . nice."

"You're welcome," said Rodney, grinning as if he were very pleased.

John let out a deep breath and turned to his team. "I don't want to be rude, but I'm really bushed and I'd like to lie down for a while. Thanks for making sure I got here okay."

Teyla stepped forward and leaned her head in so Sheppard could touch his forehead to hers. "We are glad to see you getting better, John. Get some rest and we will come by to check on you later."

"Thanks, guys." John watched as his teammates left, smiling at their protective nature. In one way, it seemed silly for them all to walk him to his quarters, yet in another way it was hugely comforting. After changing into some sweat pants, John pulled the covers back on the bed, spreading an extra blanket before he crawled in. He felt cold, so he huddled under the covers until the bed finally warmed up to his body and he began to relax, eventually drifting off to sleep.

oOo

John yawned and stretched, kicking the blankets off with his feet. His t-shirt was sweaty and stuck to him, his hairline damp as well. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to see a tray on the table. Pulling himself to his feet, he wobbled over and picked up the note that had been folded and positioned to stand up.

_Brought you food, but you were asleep. It's 6pm, so if you get up soon, you have a turkey sandwich. If it's much after that, you'd better stick to the fruit and Jell-o so we don't have to drag you back to the infirmary. We'll check on you in the morning. Rodney._

John smiled as he looked over at the clock. It was almost seven, so he decided to skip the sandwich. He wasn't taking any chances of a repeat performance. After a trip to the bathroom where he washed his hands and face, he returned to the table and ate a piece of fruit they had traded for. The fruit was similar to a peach and Rodney knew he liked them. He tried to add some of the Jell-o after that, but only managed a few bites before he felt full. He washed it all down with some water.

By the time he finished eating, he was really hot and the sweat seemed to pour off him. He took a shower with cool water, the spray relaxing the tension that had started building. After drying off, he put on a pair of boxers, deciding that it was too hot for anything more. By then, he was exhausted again, so he climbed back into bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

It was much darker when he woke up cold and pulled the covers up tightly around him. The cold seemed to amplify his muscle aches, making him wish he had another blanket. He knew he'd be warmer if he got up and put more clothes on, but he just didn't seem to have the energy. So he huddled down deeper under the covers until he finally began to feel warm again. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep.

John became aware he was scratching his arms furiously. He opened his eyes, making himself stop until he could figure out what was wrong. He sat up and pulled his arms out from under the covers, the gray light just beginning to stream through the windows not really illuminating the situation very well. He crawled out of bed, the brush of the blanket stirring an itch on his legs as well. By the time he reached the bathroom, almost every square inch of him had started to itch and he could feel a growing sense of panic.

Stepping into the bathroom and turning on the light, he immediately started the shower. His arms, legs, and torso were turning red, as if a rash was quickly spreading across his body. Dropping his boxers, he stepped into the shower and cranked up the hot water until steam was rolling off and it felt like it was scorching his skin. He shivered as the hot water burned as it gave relief from the itching. The instant reprieve from the torture made him almost giddy for a moment.

When the steam was so thick, he could barely see a foot in front of his face, he decided he had to get out. Besides, he was going to have to see Beckett about this and he wouldn't be happy if John showed up looking like a crispy critter so soon after the scrubbing incident. Turning the water off, he stepped out and began to towel off. His skin was bright red, which could either be from whatever was making him itch or from the hot water he'd just about scalded himself with.

Then he noticed the welts beginning to come up on his body, scattered and fiery red. Laying his hand over a large one on his leg, he found it tender and hot to the touch. This was so not good. He swiped the towel across the steamy mirror and looked at the reflection to see a smaller and lighter rash beginning to appear on his cheeks and down his neck. And then he noticed the mark made by Karyan, as dark as ever and shimmering green in the light.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

The Bad Luck Charm – Chapter 4

By the time John arrived at the infirmary, the itching had picked back up with a fury. He walked stiffly and clenched his fists tightly at his sides, mentally chanting, "I will not scratch," over and over. John paused in the doorway, completely caught off guard by the bustle of activity in the room. Due to the early hour, he hadn't expected anyone but medical personnel to be here.

Several people sat on beds around the room, most either scratching at red patches on their limbs or being told not to by the staff. Whatever was kicking his butt wasn't limited to just him. He was a little ashamed at the relief he found in that knowledge, realizing that misery really does love company.

"Colonel? You too?" Nick approached him from across the room.

"What's going on?" asked John, noticing that Carson was in early. He also saw Amy and Marcy and he knew they worked day shift as well. Obviously the night staff had become overwhelmed and called in reinforcements. He briefly thought how sad it was that he was that familiar with what shifts the medical staff worked.

Nick nodded down toward John's exposed arms, noting the scattered red patches and welts. "How much of this do you have?"

"Let's just say it would be easier to tell you where it isn't," John said mournfully. He noticed Nick shaking his head and realized he'd begun to scratch the side of his leg. "Sorry, it itches like a son of a gun. What _is_ this?"

Nick answered the question with a question. "Have you come into contact with anything recently laundered lately?"

John's eyes widened. "How about everything on my bed . . . you know, where I've been since late yesterday afternoon."

Nick winced. "What did you sleep in?"

John shifted his weight, his mood plummeting. "I started out in running pants and a t-shirt, but I got hot after a few hours and shucked down to my boxers."

Nick hesitated. "Recently washed boxers?"

John was hit by a moment of panic before sighing in relief. "No, I don't know why, but I grabbed boxers out of the drawer instead of the pile of fresh laundry. Thank goodness for that."

Nick smiled. "I guess now I know the area that doesn't have the rash. It's everywhere else?"

John nodded. "Nick, you didn't answer me. What is this?"

"Well, we think it's an allergic reaction to the new detergent the laundry section just started using. I'll go ahead and get you some Benadryl to help with the itching and then we need to run you through the shower and get you into some scrubs."

"I just had a shower," said John.

Nick nodded toward his chest. "And where did you get those clothes?"

John's face fell. "The fresh laundry pile . . . oh, crap, boxers too this time."

"Like I said, shower and scrubs and then I'll need to take a closer look at you." He caught hold of Kelly's arm as she went by. "Take the colonel to the showers and get him some fresh scrubs. Then I'll need him back here."

Kelly nodded. "Okay, I got it. You need to check on Corporal Statton, he's got it pretty bad."

Nick nodded. "Go ahead with Kelly and I'll get the Benadryl and be there in a sec." John began following Kelly and Nick headed the other direction.

"Hey, the scrubs haven't been to the laundry recently, have they?" John knew they had undoubtedly thought of that, but he was taking no chances, especially the way his luck had been lately.

"No, we pulled all of those the minute we began suspecting that was the source of the problem." Kelly grabbed a set of scrubs and led John to the back showers they had set up as a kind of decontamination area.

oOo

Elizabeth walked into the infirmary and immediately had to sidestep to avoid crashing into Amy.

"Sorry, Dr. Weir," the nurse called as she hurried by. "We're a bit slammed at the moment."

"I see that," she said as she edged over closer to the wall, taking in the scene before her. Every bed was occupied in some way. Most beds had people sitting on the edge, either scratching or being treated by medical personnel. Two beds in the back had more permanent residents, dressed in scrubs and somehow sleeping through the chaos around them.

"Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth let out a deep breath, thankful to finally see her CMO. "Carson, when you called I had no idea there was an emergency."

"Well, it's not exactly an emergency," he said. "Although I guess it is a wee bit of a crisis. We've treated at least thirty-five people in the last twelve hours."

"Thirty-eight," said Nick as he rushed by.

"What is it?" asked Elizabeth, starting to notice red patches on some of the patients.

"Allergic contact dermatitis," replied Beckett.

"What?"

"The Daedalus brought a new kind of detergent their last run and the laundry has just started using it this week. A rather large number of people are having an allergic reaction to it. We've already contacted the laundry to quit using it."

"Okay, can I do anything to help?"

"Yes, I need you to contact everyone and let them know what's going on. Anyone having a rash or experiencing itching should report to the infirmary immediately. Due to the widespread reaction, I think everyone should avoid using anything that's been laundered in the last couple of days."

Elizabeth nodded. "But what about all the laundry? Most everything that is clean can't be used now and we don't have any laundry detergent."

Beckett shook his head. "We keep a stock of hypoallergenic detergent for some of the expedition members with allergies to the perfumes and harsh cleansers found in many products. We'll have to get by on that until the Daedalus makes its next run. You'd better let Stargate Command know about the problem."

"Okay, I'll take care of it immediately. The Daedalus is due to head back in a couple of days." Elizabeth sighed heavily as she looked around the infirmary. "What kind of prognosis are we talking about?"

"They have varying degrees of exposure and levels of reaction. Most people are experiencing a mild rash that we're treating with antihistamines and cortisone creams. The medication makes them sleepy, so I'm advising them to not work for a couple of days. Most of them should begin to clear up and feel better after that, so they won't need the antihistamines during the day and will be able to take their shifts again."

Elizabeth nodded toward the back of the infirmary. "What about those two?"

"Their reaction was a bit more severe and they were wheezing a bit, so I'm keeping them until their lungs clear."

"How can they sleep through all this?"

"Drugs, my dear. I gave them something a might stronger than most people are getting because of the severity and . . . range of their reaction."

Elizabeth was studying the two figures closely. Corporal Statton was facing her, but the other patient was lying with his back to her, covers pulled up to his head. She couldn't miss the spikes of dark hair sticking out in contrast to the white pillow underneath. "Is that . . . "

"Yes, luv, I'm afraid so. He's back."

Elizabeth sighed heavily. "He just can't get a break lately, can he?"

oOo

"Take a deep breath," instructed Carson.

John did as he was told, trying to sit up straight as Carson moved the diaphragm of the stethoscope around his back, listening to him breathe.

Carson finally straightened up and removed the stethoscope, draping it over his shoulders. "Your lungs sound clear. How's the itching?"

"Better. It's bearable, at least. Does that mean I can go now?" John yawned as he waited for the doctor's answer.

Carson sighed and pursed his lips momentarily. "Colonel, I was thinking of keeping you over night for observation. You've had a rough week so far and I just think this bears a little monitoring."

John was already shaking his head. "I'm fine. You just said my lungs are clear and you've already released Corp. Statton. Come on Carson, I'll be good. I can't do much until I'm off all these drugs you've got me on anyway. I can hardly keep my eyes open."

Carson dipped his head slightly before looking back up at Sheppard. "All right, you have a good point. If you promise to get something to eat and go straight back to your room, I'll release you."

Sheppard held up his right hand. "You have my word, Doc. What about clothes?"

"You aren't going to like this, but you'd be more comfortable in the scrubs. I can guarantee you won't be the only one running around the city in them."

John looked down at the green scrubs. He hadn't even realized they had green scrubs, but the infirmary staff had been going through a lot of medical attire of late. John had just been grateful they didn't stick him in a gown. He had to admit, the scrubs were pretty comfortable.

"Okay, scrubs it is." He started to lean forward, a precursor to scooting off the bed, but Carson placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Hold on just a minute, I have a couple of conditions."

John cocked his head to one side. "I already agreed to conditions, remember? Food and then my quarters."

Carson nodded. "And you will be sure to take the medication I'm sending with you."

John snorted. "Like I could possibly forget that. If I don't take it, I'll itch to death."

"Good. Last, you'll have an escort to the mess hall and back to your room. You have a lot of medication in your system right now and most of it causes drowsiness. I don't want any calls to come pick you up off the floor. I made Corp. Statton have an escort too, if that makes you feel any better."

"Actually, it does," he said petulantly. "At least a little less picked on."

Beckett tapped his radio. "Rodney, it's Carson."

"_Carson, what do you want? I'm busy."_

"I need someone to escort Colonel Sheppard to the mess hall and then back to his room. He's on a lot of medication and I want to make sure he gets everywhere safely."

"_Okay, we're on our way."_

John frowned. "We?"

Carson hit the radio again. "Rodney, who is we?"

"_Ronon and Teyla and I. We were on our way to eat supper."_

Carson blew out a puff of air. "Rodney, I thought you said you were busy."

"_We are. Eating is busy. Don't get your panties in a wad, we'll be there in a minute."_

John shrugged his shoulders. "He has a point."

"Doesn't he always?" said Beckett reluctantly.

oOo

John was extremely self-conscious walking through Atlantis in scrubs with bright red blotches still very visible on his arms. He relaxed almost instantly upon entering the mess hall, however, because he immediately saw people in several shades of scrubs scattered throughout the room. No one looked quite as blotchy as he did, but at least some of them still had obvious rashes.

As he stood in line, John warily eyed the food. It was his first trip here since the food poisoning incident and he didn't feel very trusting. He carefully avoided anything he thought might spoil easily. His stomach was still improving, but the bad memories were all too fresh. He made a couple of selections and sat down at a table beside Rodney.

After a few minutes of squirming in his chair, he bumped Rodney's arm, causing the food on his fork to plummet back down to his tray. "Do you mind? Why are you trying to do the rumba in your seat?" Rodney asked in annoyance as he stabbed the errant bite of meat with his fork again.

"Sorry, McKay, I can't help it. The boys are itching and I can't exactly scratch."

McKay dropped the fork that had been halfway to his mouth, causing it to clang against his tray as he sat straight up and closed his eyes. "Too much information, Sheppard. _Way_ too much information."

"Who are the boys?" asked Teyla as she and Ronon sat down across from Sheppard and McKay.

John was thankful for the light rash that remained on the lower part of his face, hoping it hid the blood he felt rushing there. "I . . . uh . . . it's a guy thing . . . a joke, sort of . . . " He slouched down in his chair as McKay snickered next to him. Biting his lip in embarrassment, he kicked the scientist in the side of the leg.

"Ow, Sheppard . . . "

"I see," said Teyla, arching one eyebrow at him. John sunk a little lower in his chair and stared down at his plate, afraid that probably Teyla did see.

"Perhaps we should eat. The colonel looks tired and we must get him back to his room soon to take his medicine . . . for the itching." Teyla looked at him briefly before she turned her attention to the food on her tray.

That brought up the whole being escorted around like an invalid thing. Once had been okay, but he was starting to feel like everyone thought he was helpless. Heck, he was starting to feel helpless. He was sitting here about half asleep and trying desperately not to give in to the urge to scratch. Suddenly he was looking forward to getting back to his quarters and just sleeping. If he kept Carson's little cocktail going for a couple of days, maybe he could sleep through the worst of it.

"That's it? That's all you're eating?"

John looked over at McKay. "Small amounts of relatively bland food, remember?"

"Three green beans and a tablespoon of mashed potatoes hardly qualifies as a meal, even for you."

John looked down at his tray. "I've got more food than that, Rodney. And don't forget the Jell-o."

"John has been through a lot the last few days," said Teyla. "Perhaps he is just not very hungry."

"Thank you, Teyla," said John appreciatively.

"Leave him alone, McKay. He'll eat when he's ready," said Ronon.

"Fine, fine, I was just being a concerned friend. If he wants to carefully avoid meat and anything else that could spoil, thereby suffering from malnutrition, far be it from me to say anything."

John saw Ronon and Teyla look at his tray and then exchange a look. "Okay . . . so I'm a little gun-shy right now. I just want to be . . . careful for a few days."

Rodney suddenly snapped his fingers. "Got it. You just need to watch it til your bad luck charm wears off. How's that going by the way?" Rodney leaned around to look at the mark, visible because of the v-neck on the scrub shirt.

John stabbed his fork into his potatoes. "It's still there and it's _not_ a bad luck charm."

"Just keep telling yourself that, Sheppard." Rodney stuffed a large bit of food into his mouth and began chewing.

John remained silent through the rest of the meal, mostly trying to stay awake. He caught himself dozing several times and Teyla poked him in the arm once. By the time the others has finished eating, he was looking forward to snuggling down into a nice, warm bed. He'd gotten cold sitting at the table.

He weaved a bit as they walked down the hall, occasionally bumping into the wall or one of his teammates, but no one said anything. Ronon elbowed him once when he had absently started scratching his shoulder. At least no one had mentioned the ugly red patches on his arms and neck.

"Sheppard, we're here," Ronon said as he grabbed his arm and stopped him from walking past his door.

"Oh, yeah, we are. Thanks guys." He opened the door and walked inside, hearing the door swoosh behind him. He stood there staring at his bare mattress and sighed heavily. Glancing around the room, he looked to see if whoever took his sheets and blankets might have left him some new ones, but there was nothing. Walking over to what served as his closet, he rummaged around until he unearthed a blanket he'd thrown in there at some point. It smelled a little dusty, but at least maybe it wouldn't make him itch. He shook it out before throwing it on the bed. The last thing he needed was some multi-legged creature joining him.

John went to the bathroom to grab a glass of water, but stopped to look in the mirror, staring at the mark on his chest. He fingered it lightly. Unfortunately, it didn't look like it had faded at all in the last five days. Grabbing the glass of water, he took it out and placed it on the nightstand just before reaching into the scrub pocket and pulling out his pill bottles. Glancing at the clock, he saw he was within half an hour of his next dose of meds. "Close enough," he said out loud as he dumped the pills in his hand then washed them down with the water. He shivered as another chill began settling in.

John sat on the edge of his bed and removed his shoes. He was about to curl up with the blanket, when he realized his pillow was missing. Standing, he slowly circled the whole room, looking every possible place you could put a pillow. No pillow. "Well, this sucks!" he said, once again talking out loud to the empty room. He stood staring at the thin blanket sitting on a bare mattress, briefly considering going back to the infirmary, where they had sheets, blankets, _and_ pillows. But after the way he had insisted that Carson release him, there was no way he was going crawling back. He'd just have to make do.

John picked up the blanket, pulled it around him, and then curled up on the bed into the tightest ball he could manage. Shivering under the thin covers, he wished he at least had a thicker blanket or maybe a second one. He was freezing, yet again. Snuggling deeper into the bed, he pulled the blanket up over his head so that nothing stuck out in the cold air. After a few minutes, he finally began to relax as the meds started kicking in, producing the now familiar drugged sleepy feeling. He didn't care. As long as he went to sleep so he didn't feel the cold or the subtle itching that was slowly driving him insane.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** This chapter contains a brief reference to my story _Mom Always Told Me, _but you don't have to have read it to understand.

The Bad Luck Charm – Chapter 5

Beckett was surprised and pleased to find Sheppard's door unlocked. Once the door opened, he poked his head into the darkened room. "Colonel?"

There was no movement from the lump of blanket on the bare mattress of the bed. He knew it had to be Sheppard, even though no body parts poked out from the covers, not even so much as a hair. Sighing, he moved quietly into the room, setting the food he'd brought on the small table before going to the bed.

Carson was startled into jumping when Sheppard suddenly sat straight up in bed, the blanket falling away from him as he moved. His eyes were open, but unseeing as he sat panting, beads of sweat leaving a trail as they ran down the side of his face.

"Colonel Sheppard, are you all right, lad?" Beckett sat on the edge of the bed, bringing Sheppard out of his daze. His head whipped around to look at Beckett and he sat staring for several moments, obviously disoriented.

"Doc?" he said unsurely as he looked around the room, trying to get his bearings.

"You're in your room, Colonel," said Beckett, trying to fill in the obvious gaps for the confused pilot. "I just stopped by on my way to the infirmary from breakfast to check on you. I've brought you a muffin and some juice if you're hungry."

John looked toward the table Carson had indicated. "Uh, thanks. Maybe in a minute." His breathing was beginning to slow and his shoulders had relaxed some.

"I didn't realize no one had replaced your bedding. You should have come back to the infirmary or called someone to help you."

John shook his head. "No, it's okay. I found a blanket." He looked absently around the room. "Could have used a pillow though. They took my pillow." John moved around the doctor to the edge of the bed and stood up. "Excuse me a sec, Doc." He disappeared into the bathroom and emerged a few minutes later. Beckett had moved to sit at one of the chairs beside the table. John sat down in the other one and began unwrapping the muffin.

"Thanks for the food, Carson. I am kind of hungry."

"Not a problem. I know the meds we have you on make you loopy and I wasn't sure if you'd feel like walking to the mess hall."

"Not really," said John. "I'm not much of a breakfast eater anyway. Something light like this is usually good."

Carson watched him closely. "Was that a nightmare I walked in on?"

John stopped chewing a moment and looked up at Beckett before resuming, as if he'd been caught at something. "Kind of." He swallowed and hesitated a second. "That old woman from the village . . . she kept following me around screaming at me and trying to attack me. I didn't want to hurt her, so I kept trying to walk away. She just kept popping up." John shivered a bit before taking a drink of the orange juice.

"What kind of things was she doing?" asked Beckett, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I'm not sure . . . it's kind of fuzzy. I think she burned me . . . cut me with something . . . . . . weird stuff."

Beckett seemed to consider this. "Are you starting to worry that this curse . . . bad luck charm, as Rodney calls it, is real?"

John looked nervous as he twisted in his chair for several seconds before finding a position he could live with. "No, I don't think that's it. I think she just freaked me out the way she went nuts and screamed at me for a stupid gene. I mean the food poisoning and the allergy stuff is just coincidence. The allergy stuff hit a lot more people than just me."

Carson nodded and seemed to relax a little. "True."

John wiped the sweat from his forehead and downed the rest of his juice. "I wish it wasn't so hot in here. I froze all night and now I'm about to roast."

Carson frowned at him and leaned forward in his seat. "Colonel, it's not hot in here." He stood and walked over to Sheppard, placing the back of his hand to the pilot's forehead. "You feel a little warm. I can't figure out what's making your temperature go haywire like this. Did it start with the food poisoning?"

John shook his head. "No, before that. It started . . . " He looked up at Beckett with wide eyes. "It started about the time we got back from that planet. What if she did something to me? What if there's something in that ink or paint that soaks into your blood and, I don't know, does stuff to you?" John had instinctively put his hand to this chest to cover the mark.

Beckett could have kicked himself. He should have thought of that earlier. He'd let himself get distracted by Sheppard's emotional reaction to the encounter and Rodney's ranting about the bad luck charm. "I'm sorry, Colonel. I should have thought of that and had it checked out. I want you to come down the infirmary in a bit and let me get a new blood sample and maybe a sample of that mark. Judging from the timing, I'd say it's entirely possible that there may be something to your theory."

John finished his muffin and wadded the cellophane wrapper up, dumping it on the table. "I guess the other possibility is this is all in my mind?"

Beckett hesitated, but decided he'd better be honest. "It's possible that your subconscious is buying into the bad luck charm idea and causing the temperature fluctuations. People can actually feel sick or feel better in response to certain beliefs and thought processes. There is something to the old adage of the power of positive thinking, and the opposite can be equally true."

"Great, I'm not sure which to hope for. I've either been poisoned or I'm losing my mind."

Beckett laughed and leaned forward to pat Sheppard's arm. "Oh, it's not that bad, laddie. How's the itching this morning? Looks like your rash and hives issues have improved."

John noticed for the first time that the red welts and patches on his arms were not as angry looking, as well as being fewer in number. "Hey, you're right. Finally, some good news. The itching isn't too bad, as long as I keep myself distracted."

"Let me listen to your lungs once before I go." Beckett pulled his stethoscope out of his pocket.

John frowned at the doctor. "You take that thing to breakfast with you?"

"I take this thing everywhere," he replied as he put the earpieces in place and pulled John's shirt up.

Several deep breaths later, Beckett was satisfied and John was beginning to get light headed. "Can I get you anything?" asked the doctor as he stood to leave.

"I'm good. I'll come down in a little while, when I get myself going."

"Good enough. Remember to take your meds on time." Beckett moved to the door and opened it.

"Doc . . . thanks," Sheppard said sincerely. He didn't like the infirmary and he didn't like being sick or injured and he really hated being fussed over. But he trusted Beckett more than he'd ever trusted any doctor and he was truly grateful for the concerned care that was always given to him.

Beckett turned back to face his patient. "You're welcome, Colonel." His head dipped down in a small nod as a smile spread across his face. It was one thing to know your patients appreciated their care, but it was still nice to be told ever so often.

oOo

John sat up suddenly at the sound of someone pounding on the door. He'd been working on his computer earlier, trying to catch up with the mission reports he was behind on, and had apparently gone to sleep. John woke to find his head resting against his arm and drool forming a wet spot on the table. He wiped his mouth as the pounding resumed.

"Colonel, if you don't open the door in ten seconds, I'm letting myself in, so you'd better get decent."

John smiled at Rodney's threat and thought the door open to reveal the scientist with his fist in the air as he prepared to assault the door again. Rodney dropped his hand and pulled down on his shirt. "Well, it's about time," he said as he walked in the door. "What took you so long?"

John stifled a yawn before answering. "Sorry, guess I went to sleep doing mission reports."

Rodney plopped down in the chair beside him. "How ever did you manage that, after all, they are so interesting," he said sarcastically. He squirmed sideways in the chair and cocked his head slightly, trying to see the exposed area of John's chest.

"Put your head back on your shoulders, McKay, it's still there."

McKay sat back up and tried his best to look innocent. "I wasn't looking."

Sheppard cut his eyes sideways at the scientist as he shut his computer down. "Yeah, right. Is that all you came for?"

"Actually, colonel, I'm here on a mission of mercy. I came to see if you wanted to go to lunch."

"Well, I'm not sure what's merciful about that, but I am kind of hungry. I told Carson I'd come by the infirmary, but I can do that after we eat. Can you wait for me to shower and change?" John was just realizing he was still in the scrubs from yesterday and he was feeling sticky and grubby.

McKay sighed dramatically. "If you must and only if you hurry. No time for primping and such."

"All I want to do is wash off the sweat and put on some clean clothes." John frowned as he got up and walked over the small dresser. "That's assuming I can find some clean clothes." He began rummaging through the drawers.

"Have they not brought your stuff back to you yet?" asked Rodney. "Mine was delivered this morning."

"Haven't seen it," Sheppard replied, pulling a worn pair of sweats from the drawer. "I have pants . . . sort of." A few minutes later he came up with a t-shirt. He opened the top drawer to find one pair of boxers. The faded blue pair with the holes he'd already embarrassed himself in once. He was pretty sure he'd turned four shades of red when he'd been hauled to the infirmary injured and they'd stripped him down to his holey skivvies. Well, better than the alternative, he thought. Hopefully he wouldn't have to show them off this time.

"Be back in a sec," said Sheppard, disappearing into the bathroom.

Rodney grunted. "I doubt that."

When Sheppard returned just a few minutes later, McKay was pleasantly surprised. He squinted at the pilot, trying to read the phrase on the threadbare dark blue t-shirt. "_Pain is weakness leaving the body._" He looked up at Sheppard's serious face. "That may be the dumbest thing I've ever seen on a t-shirt."

"Not any dumber than _I'm with genius_," Sheppard deadpanned.

"Well, at least mine was accurate."

"Can we go now?" Sheppard didn't wait for an answer, but headed straight for the door. McKay sighed again and followed. They made their way to the outside walkway on their level, enjoying the mid-day sun and the pleasant temperature.

"Why do you have to see Carson? You're not sick with something new, are you?" asked McKay as he took one step sideways, away from Sheppard.

"No, McKay, it's safe to breathe in my presence. Something has my thermostat all out of whack. I'm always either hot or cold and it started shortly after we got back from that stupid planet. Carson wants to take some blood and maybe a tissue sample from the mark Karyan put on me to see if there could be some kind of chemical that's being absorbed through the skin."

"Oh, that's actually a good idea. I'm surprised I didn't think of it," said McKay.

"I thought you didn't do biological?"

Before McKay could reply, their attention was diverted by the sound of thumping and crashing in the adjacent corridor. Stopping beside the stairs leading to the lower levels, they watched the hall entrance with a bit of trepidation. Two marines suddenly erupted from the passage, scuffling across the open walkway in an out of control brawl.

Sheppard's face hardened in anger as soon as he realized what was happening and he began to step forward toward the moving struggle. "Hey!" he roared. "Knock it off and I mean knock it off right – "

He was cut off as the mass of intertwined, stumbling limbs suddenly veered sideways into him. He saw it coming at the last second and twisted in an effort to get out of the way, but not fast enough. The thrashing bodies of the marines bumped him soundly as he pivoted on one foot, sending him hurtling sideways. For one horrible moment he saw the stairs rushing up to meet him before a crushing instant of pain slid away into darkness.

oOo

Ronon rounded the corner and almost crashed into Teyla. Quick reflexes on both their parts was the only thing that prevented a collision.

"Ronon, I am sorry."

"No problem, it was just as much my fault as yours. I was just coming to find you. Thought I'd see if I could talk Sheppard into coming to the mess hall for lunch."

Teyla nodded. "That is a good idea. I believe he is somewhat embarrassed by the skin discoloration. He is probably more likely to leave his room if he is not alone."

"That's kind of what I was thinking." They walked along in silence for a moment before Ronon continued hesitantly. "What do you think about this curse Karyan put on Sheppard? Do you think it's real?"

Teyla considered his question for several seconds. "I believe that there are things we do not understand. The Ancestors possessed powers that would shock us to see used. We have both seen Colonel Sheppard use some of the Ancient devices in a way that seems strange and almost magical. I do not believe in curses as such, but I do believe that some may possess abilities that are beyond our knowledge and would thus seem to be very powerful."

Ronon grunted, but did not disagree. "I suppose I've seen some things I didn't understand over the years. Not understanding something breeds fear and intimidation."

"I agree." Teyla sighed sadly. "I wish Charin was still with us. I believe she told me stories when I was younger of such a curse as this, but I do not remember much of it. I do not even know if it was the same thing or if it carried a mark like the one placed on the colonel."

"What about someone else?"

"I cannot think of anyone, but I might ask . . . " Teyla's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of scuffling. They looked up to see two marines s come staggering out of a side corridor while struggling with one another. About the same time, they noticed McKay and Sheppard headed their way. As the soldiers came crashing between them and their teammates, Sheppard yelled at them and started to step forward. The two man wrestling match suddenly shifted sideways, crashing into Sheppard as he tried to twist away from them at the last minute. Mouths open, they watched as their team leader disappeared down the staircase behind him.

oOo

Elizabeth rushed down the corridor, wondering when the hallways had become so congested. Her frustration and worry built as it seemed people purposefully stood talking in such a way as to block the hall or walked slowly side by side. She dodged and weaved, muttering apologies as she bumped into people. What seemed like hours later, she finally rushed into the infirmary. Almost immediately, she spotted Carson talking to Rodney, Ronon, and Teyla and hurried to join them.

"I got here as soon as I could," she said breathlessly. "There seems to be an abnormal amount of hall traffic today."

Carson smiled and patted her arm. "It's all right, I was just about to update everyone on the colonel's condition. I'm afraid he has a nasty concussion. The scan doesn't show any sign of fracture, but he's still disoriented and having trouble remaining awake, so we'll be keeping a close eye on him. We put sixteen stitches in his head, where it looks like he hit the edge of one of the steps. It's a wonder he doesn't have a worse head injury than he does."

"So, the colonel will be all right?" asked Teyla.

"Aye, he should be. He also broke his right arm, fractured both the radius and ulna, and cracked a bone in his wrist. He'll not be too happy about that. Apparently he instinctively threw out his arm to catch himself, but when you're being knocked down a flight of stairs, that's a little more catching than our arms are made for. He'll be in a cast for a few weeks. He's also got quite a selection of bumps and bruises. He'll probably feel like a bus hit him by tomorrow."

"Well, actually two buses hit him. Buses in marine uniforms . . . idiots could have killed him." Rodney face was slightly flushed with anger as he clenched and unclenched his fists and shifted his weight back and forth.

"Buses?" asked Ronon.

"Large forms of ground transportation on their home planet," said Teyla, having encountered the expression before. The three people from Earth found it odd to have one alien explain Earth terms to another alien in their presence.

"What happened exactly?" asked Elizabeth, her face now showing anger as she returned her attention to the cause of John's fall.

"Two marines were fighting and they crashed into Sheppard, knocking him down the stairs," explained Ronon. "He was yelling at them, but I guess they didn't hear him."

"Where are they now?" asked Elizabeth.

"Major Lorne took them after we patched them up," said Carson. "And he was a might angry, so I don't think they'll be getting off lightly."

"They shouldn't," said Rodney. "He didn't need this right now, not on top of everything else."

Elizabeth's face softened and she widened her eyes in surprise. "Why Rodney, it sounds almost like you care." Teyla and Ronon grinned and exchanged a glance before looking back to Rodney.

"Well . . . of course I care. He's our teammate and . . . okay, he's my friend. There, I said it, are you happy?" Rodney grunted in annoyance as he glared at the others.

Teyla walked around to face Rodney and placed her hand on his shoulders. "As we all are friends." She leaned forward and Rodney just stood looking uncomfortable for a second before leaning in to touch his forehead to hers.

He jerked back rather quickly, shuffling his feet and looking at the floor. "So, can we see him?"

Carson sighed and shook his head. "Not for a while. We've still got to set his arm and get the cast on. We're trying to get the swelling to go down a bit first. He's a might restless and disoriented right now and I don't want to agitate him further. When we get finished with his arm and get him a wee bit more settled, you can have a few minutes with him."

"We'll wait, if you do not mind," said Teyla.

"Not at all," said Carson, having expected as much. "I'll come get you when we're ready, but it may be a while," he said apologetically. They watched him leave and then settled into the chairs, prepared to stay as long as it took.

TBC

**Note:** Rodney's t-shirt was seen in the episode _Home _from Season 1.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: **Thanks for all the wonderful reviews – you guys make me smile. Stealth Dragon and obsessed1 both mentioned in their reviews that maybe John needed to be bubble-wrapped for protection and that sounded like such a Rodney comment, so I borrowed it. Thanks for the great idea guys!

The Bad Luck Charm – Chapter 6

It was over two hours before Beckett returned to retrieve the four people waiting to see Sheppard. If it had been any one else, he would have almost expected for them to have given up and left. But this was Sheppard's team. Certain members of the Atlantis expedition, particularly those who came over with the original group, had become like family. And there were core groups that were even closer than most families. Sheppard's team was one of those groups.

He and Elizabeth had discussed it on occasion. They weren't completely sure if it was the dynamics of their personalities and the way they interacted with one another or if maybe it was because none of them really had a family outside of Atlantis. Perhaps it was all of those things combined. The important thing was that they stuck by one another, protected and supported one another, like no other team he'd seen. And they liked to hide their closeness with banter, arguing, and snarking like no other team out there. He smiled when he'd think about how a lucky few seemed to be included in that close-knit family, including himself and Elizabeth.

Beckett smiled at the four worried faces, trying to put them at ease. "Okay, we've got the colonel settled, more or less. He's still a bit disoriented and restless, so don't be surprised if he doesn't seem to be exactly with us. He's drifting in and out, so I won't promise he'll say anything at all. His arm's all set, though, and I've given him as much pain relief as I dare in his present condition. When I say it's time to go, I don't expect an argument. Is that clear?"

Four heads nodded earnestly, so he led them to their friend.

Elizabeth moved to the side of the bed, standing beside John's head. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed, making her wonder if he was in pain. A large white bandage covered most of the right side of his forehead, dipping down slightly over the outside edge of his eyebrow. His right arm was in a cast that extended up past his elbow and was secured to his body in a sling. His left hand supported an IV. She glanced down to see if the mark was still on his chest, but the neck of the hospital gown hid that area. He moaned softly as his eyes drifted open.

"John, we're here. Carson says you're going to be fine." Elizabeth lightly stroked the left side of his face.

John looked at her, his eyes distant and glassy. "I thought you left me. I waited and waited . . . but no one came. It was so long . . . I thought you left me alone there." His voice was soft, but somewhat strained and almost panicky.

Elizabeth shook her head and placed one hand on his face and the other on his shoulder. "John, we would never leave you, you must know that. I promise, we'll never abandon you."

John's eyes drifted closed, his voice getting even softer. "Thought . . . you didn't . . . care."

Teyla came up on the other side and touched John's shoulder as well. "John, it is Teyla. We all care for you very much and I can also promise you that we will never leave you."

John shifted restlessly under the covers for a second before opening his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. "Arm hurts."

"I know, Dr. Beckett said he's given you all the pain medicine he can because of your head injury." Elizabeth went back to gently stroking John's cheek.

"Head hurts too," he whispered, letting his eyes slide closed again. "Don't want to ascend."

"Not much danger of that," said Rodney, shifting his gaze sheepishly to the floor when four sets of eyes glared at him.

John's eyes suddenly snapped open and he grabbed at his neck with his left hand. He'd tried to move his right, but quickly aborted that plan at the first hot flash of pain. "Get it off," he yelled. Teyla grabbed his hand and quickly moved to pull it away from his neck, but he twisted away. They at first thought he was remembering the iratus bug incident, because that's the area of his neck he reached for. They were surprised when he pulled his hand free and began clawing again, but they couldn't tell if it was where the bug attached or at the mark left by Karyan.

"Make it go away! Cut it off. Get it off me." He bucked and struggled with more strength than Beckett would have thought possible. It took all of them to hold him still on the bed so Elizabeth could talk to him.

"John, it's Elizabeth. You've got to relax and hold still. Everything's okay. I promise that everything is okay, but you have to calm down before you hurt yourself." She had his face in both of her hands and her eyes were inches from his. After a few seconds, his struggles slowed down significantly.

"That's it, lass," encouraged Beckett. "Keep talking. I don't want to sedate him if I don't have to. He's having enough trouble as it is."

Elizabeth continued to speak softly and quietly to him for several minutes as he slowly relaxed and stopped fighting. His eyes began to drift closed again as he pleaded one more time, "Make it go away . . . please."

They stood up and began working the kinks out from where they had struggled with Sheppard, still unsure if he meant the iratus bug or the mark on his chest.

"Well, that was interesting," said Rodney worriedly. "Are you sure he's okay, because that most definitely did not look okay to me."

"He'll be fine, Rodney. I told you he was disoriented from the concussion."

Rodney eyed Beckett suspiciously, but didn't say any more, much to everyone's surprise.

"You've had a chance to see him, now I need all of you out of here so my patient can get some rest. Come back after supper to check on him if you'd like."

"We'll do that," said Ronon, frowning as he looked at Sheppard for several seconds before turning away. The others nodded, more to themselves than anything, as they followed him out of the infirmary.

oOo

Beckett sat back in his chair as he finished updating the medical charts for his current patients. He rubbed his face as he picked up the report that had come back on Sheppard's blood work and took another look at it. Everything was normal except for the trace amounts of a substance he was unfamiliar with. He was anxious to get the results of the tissue sample back, but he knew they wouldn't be ready yet.

He thought back to some of the things Sheppard had said the night before. When he had talked about being left behind, they all knew he was referring when he was trapped in the time dilation field with the people who were trying to ascend. Sheppard had assured them that he understood it was only hours to them and that they'd been working to rescue him the whole time, but they knew there was no way to completely overcome the six months of hopelessness the pilot had been subjected to.

For weeks afterwards, he'd been erratic in his behavior. One day he couldn't seem to go five minutes without being with a member of his team and then the next he'd hide out for hours on some distant pier, just sitting and watching the ocean. They spent several nights sitting up watching movies in the rec room because he couldn't seem to go back to his room alone and other nights searching for him because he was unaware he'd been gone all day. Elizabeth had finally demanded he "make time" to see Kate for the sessions she had required or he wouldn't be going back through the gate. Slowly, he'd eased back to his normal self, but the emotional toll of being abandoned by people he loved had been devastating.

Beckett shook his head. There was no time to be worrying about that now. A lot had happened since then and they had moved past it. He just hated that Sheppard was apparently reliving it. Nick said that the confusion the colonel was experiencing had gotten better as the night wore on. By morning, he'd almost been himself again. Beckett looked at his watch and decided now was a good time to check on his patient and refill his coffee cup.

Standing up and stretching, the physician made his way out of his office, only to stop a few seconds later. He wasn't so much amazed by the small throng of people around Sheppard's bed as he was that they'd slipped past his office without alerting him. He shook his head silently thinking he must be losing his touch.

Elizabeth sat next to the head of John's bed, talking quietly to Teyla as she sat in a chair next to her. Her right hand rested on the bed and ever so often, her index finger would reach out and gently stroke the colonel's shoulder. Ronon sat in a chair on the other side of the bed, his feet propped up on the lower rail of the bed. His arms were crossed over his chest, his head forward as if he was sleeping. Rodney sat on the adjacent bed behind the women, muttering to himself and typing away on his laptop. Beckett smiled as he approached.

"And just what are all you people doing here?" he asked with feigned sternness.

All eyes lifted to look at the doctor, but Ronon was the one who spoke. "We're making sure Sheppard doesn't wake up alone. We . . . didn't want him to think we left him again."

Beckett nodded. "Aye, I'm guessing you've been feeling a might guilty about that as well."

"We know he understands and does not blame us," said Teyla, "but the feeling of being abandoned remains deep within him."

"I know lass, and it probably always will. There's a part of you that never recovers from something like that."

"Maybe we can make sure it never happens again, though," said Rodney.

"That we can do," said Elizabeth firmly.

Ronon put his legs down so that Beckett could get past him. "Well, I'll just give him a quick check and get out of your way then. Has he stirred at all?"

"A few times," said Elizabeth. "We thought he was waking up just a few minutes ago, but then he settled back down."

Beckett nodded as he checked the IV line. When he brushed up against John's arm, the pilot's hand shot up and grabbed the doctor's wrist as his eyes snapped open.

John said something at Beckett in a foreign language, his voice cold and demanding, as he sat up in bed, still gripping the man's wrist. Everyone had immediately stood up, but no one approached just yet.

"Colonel, it's me, Carson Beckett. You're in Atlantis, son, you're safe." Beckett talked softly and calmly to John, trying to get him to focus on where he was while placing his free hand on top of Sheppard's restraining one.

"John, it's Elizabeth. Everything's okay, we just need you to let Carson go so we can take care of you." John turned to look at Elizabeth, his eyes wide in confusion. He let go of Carson's hand has he started to list unsteadily to one side.

"Liz'beth," he whispered as his eyelids drooped and Carson caught him, easing him back down to the bed.

"Yes, John, it's Elizabeth. You're safe, I promise. Just relax."

Once John was lying down again, his eyes fluttered a few times before opening. He looked up at Carson, his face frowning in concentration. "Doc?"

Carson smiled and nodded. "Yes, colonel, good to have you back. Now don't be trying to sit up again just yet."

John looked around the room, his frown increasing. "I'm in the infirmary again?"

"Yes, colonel, I'm afraid so. What do you remember?"

John licked his lips and looked back at Beckett. "Going to bed in my quarters not long after you released me. I'd like to request some sheets and blankets for my bed, by the way. I thought I was going to freeze. How'd I end up back here?" Mentally trying to assess his condition, he had logged his arm in the cast and a bandage on his aching head. The rest of him was about as sore as he ever remembered.

"You don't remember the marines and the stairs?" asked Rodney, his eyes wide in amazement.

John turned his head slowly toward Rodney, afraid moving it too fast would increase the pain and nausea. "Stairs? There aren't any stairs in my quarters."

Rodney was now the one who looked confused. "No, not in your quarters. The stairs outside, on the way to the mess hall. You don't remember falling down the stairs?"

"No, I don't." John was beginning to look worried and his breathing was coming a little more quickly.

Carson sighed. "Take it easy, colonel. Why don't we start at the beginning so we can catch you up."

John blew out a deep calming breath. "Yes, please, because this is frustrating."

Beckett nodded and patted John on the shoulder. "I imagine it is, lad. Well, I brought you breakfast yesterday morning, a muffin and orange juice, on my way to the infirmary."

"Wait," said John, lifting off the pillow a few inches, only to have Beckett gently push him back down. "You said _yesterday_ morning?" That meant he'd lost almost two days. He felt his heart hammering in his chest. He hated this, more than just about anything. He sometimes felt he'd lost more of his life to being unconscious or short term memory loss than he'd kept. He was the only person he knew that could regularly go to bed and wake up in the infirmary and not remember anything in between.

"Lad, are you hearing me? Are you all right?"

He suddenly realized Beckett was looking at him with his _worried doctor_ look. "Sorry, doc, guess I drifted there for a minute." He hesitated, trying in vain to boost the memory. "I . . . I don't remember."

Beckett didn't seem upset and merely smiled at him. "It's all right, some memory loss is quite common with concussions. It's nothing to worry about."

"Not nearly as worrisome as the time traveling you were doing last night," said Rodney.

"What?" asked John.

"Rodney!" exclaimed Beckett. "I'm sorry about that, colonel, I was going to talk to you later, _in private_," he emphasized as he glanced over to glare at Rodney for a moment. "You were a wee bit disoriented last night, that's all."

John groaned. This just kept getting better and better. He'd lost two days and apparently carried on in his sleep to boot. "Doc, I'm getting tired and everything hurts. Could I just get the short version on how I ended up in here again?"

McKay sidled over to get closer to the bed. "Well, being the good friend that I am, I came to get you for lunch. We were on our way to the mess hall, when two of your rather large goons brought their barroom brawl out of a side corridor and knocked into you, pushing you down a staircase." McKay looked around the room smugly. "I, of course, administered first aid and kept everyone from panicking while calling for a medical team. By the way, you bleed a lot, do you know that?"

Beckett sighed. "As I recall, it was Ronon that called for the medical team."

Ronon stepped over to stand right behind Rodney. "And as I recall, Teyla was the one doing most of the first aid. I do seem to remember you screaming like a girl."

McKay huffed loudly. "I did _not _scream. I may have yelled a little."

John snickered, but it turned into a groan when the action vibrated through his head producing a spike of pain. He closed his eyes and brought his left hand up to feel the bandage on his forehead. "How many?"

"Sixteen, colonel. You had a pretty nasty concussion to go along with it. Even you aren't hard headed enough to go against a staircase and come out unscathed. You've also broken both your radius and ulna, so you'll be stuck in a cast for a while. By now you've figured out you have a multitude of bruises and muscle strains as well."

"Oh, yeah," mumbled Sheppard. "I feel like a bus hit me." He was a little startled when everyone laughed at the comment.

Elizabeth saw his dismay and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Carson told us you'd probably feel like a bus hit you."

John sighed in relief. "I was worried at why you would think that was funny, because it doesn't feel funny at all."

"No, the funny part was seeing Teyla explain what a bus is to Ronon," smirked Rodney.

A smile flickered briefly across John's lips before morphing into a grimace of pain. The problem with waking up was that the pain tended to wake up along with you. Every movement, including breathing, hurt. As he tried to lie as still as possible, he quickly figured out that he hurt even without movement. Feeling a tug on his IV, he opened his eyes to see Beckett adding something through the IV port.

"I hope that's something really good, because even my toenails hurt."

Silence filled the room as everyone stared at Sheppard. "What?" he asked nervously.

Teyla seemed to regain her composure first. "It is just that you rarely admit when you are in pain. We are worried that it must be great for you to say anything."

John laughed nervously. "Lighten up, guys, it's not that bad. What happened to the guys that knocked me down the steps and are we talking marine or air force personnel?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"Marine," filled in Rodney.

"Major Lorne is taking care of it," said Elizabeth, a smile creeping across her face. "And I heard through the grapevine he's making them scrub and polish every square inch of Jumper One, inside and out."

"Good," John drawled. "That sounds fitting to me and she needed a good cleaning."

"I hope they're using their toothbrushes," said Rodney. He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "Their _only_ toothbrushes."

Elizabeth winced. "That's a bit harsh, even for you."

Rodney just shook his head. "It wouldn't seem that way if you'd been there to see the colonel take a header down that staircase. I think they're getting off light, myself. Oh, and while we're talking about the colonel, I really think he should start wearing some protective gear when he goes out, you know, like bubble wrap and a helmet maybe."

"McKay," John drawled in his best warning tone. "Don't start."

"Hey, I'm just saying . . . you spend more time here than you do in your room. You've given new meaning to the term accident-prone."

John folded his lower lip in and chewed on it, knowing he couldn't argue with the statement. Lately, he had spent a lot more time in the infirmary than anywhere else, and he was getting sick of it.

Beckett saw the worried look on John's face and decided to change the subject. "Oh, colonel, I noticed the reappearance of a certain article of faded blue clothing. I'm afraid I took the liberty of getting rid of them this time around."

John almost came up off the bed. "What? You threw away my lucky boxers?"

Elizabeth and Teyla's mouths dropped open, followed by putting their hands over their forehead to partially hide their faces. Rodney and Ronon just gaped unabashedly.

Beckett had the decency to look embarrassed, but whether it was for throwing away the boxers or bringing it up in mixed company was anybody's guess. "Colonel, you can see through them. There's no point in wearing any if you're going to wear those."

"How lucky can they be if you've ended up in the infirmary in them on multiple occasions?" asked Rodney, looking like he didn't know whether to laugh or be disgusted by the conversation.

"But I've never died or almost died in them. It's always something like this, a broken arm or shot in the leg. Besides, when my chopper went down in Afghanistan behind enemy lines and I actually made it out alive, that's what I was wearing."

Rodney grimaced. "I'm surprised you didn't save the rest of the uniform to go along with it. And just for the record, I think it's interesting that the man that doesn't believe in a bad luck charm happens to have lucky underwear."

John frowned a bit, finding it harder to concentrate and stay awake as the drugs began to take hold. "Actually, there wasn't enough left of the rest of the uniform. Too many holes and blood and burned spots." He decided to ignore the lucky underwear comment. His brain just felt too fuzzy to develop an appropriate rebuttal.

"Thanks for that lovely image," moaned McKay. "I think you're definition of lucky is slightly more warped that that of the average person."

John yawned and struggled to keep his eyes open. "Looked a lot worse than it was. Getting . . . kind of tired." He didn't really mind the lethargic feeling beginning to spread through him because it was taking the pain away.

Beckett smiled as he watched the tension lines easing and Sheppard beginning to relax into the pillows. "I think it's time to let the colonel rest, now. Why don't you go get some lunch and check back later."

Beckett watched from the foot of the bed as one by one they touched John on the shoulder or leg and let him know that they would be back later. He began drifting away himself when he heard John call Rodney back to the bed. Watching, he couldn't hear what Sheppard was saying, but at the end of his instructions, Rodney wrinkled his nose and said, "Ew!" very loudly. Beckett laughed and wondered if he should post a guard on garbage detail.

oOo

John was a bit startled when he opened his eyes to find Carson sitting beside his bed watching him. Their eyes locked briefly and John thought he saw worry lining the kind face. "Doc, are you . . . sitting there watching me sleep?"

Carson smiled, but it was superficial. "I was just taking a break and I knew you'd be waking soon. I wanted to talk to you without your entourage." Beckett briefly stood to adjust John's bed to more of a sitting position.

John tried to swallow, but his mouth suddenly felt dry. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"No, probably not. I took a blood sample and a small tissue sample from the mark on your chest yesterday. I got the lab results back a little while ago."

John shifted nervously under the covers, suddenly feeling cold and vulnerable. He pulled the blanket up farther on his chest with his good arm, carefully working around the cast. "What do they show?"

Beckett sighed. "Well, there were trace amounts of an unidentified chemical in your blood work. The same chemical was found in more concentrated amounts in the tissue sample. It appears it's being slowly absorbed through the skin, sort of like a time release system to keep a constant flow entering your body. I believe that's probably what's interfering with your body's temperature regulation."

"What else does it do?"

"Now that, I don't know. The chemical is unlike anything we've encountered so far, although the biochemists think it's probably a plant extract of some kind. It seems to be interacting with the Ancient gene in some way, but we haven't figured out how yet. Rodney's working on it right now."

John closed his eyes and brought his left hand up to rub his eyes. His head was really starting to pound and, on top of everything else, he was starting to itch again. He had already noticed that the red patches had faded, but not gone away entirely. He had a brief moment when he just wanted to lose it, to break down and yell or cry or just pound his head in frustration. Sucking in a deep breath, he scolded himself, trying to concentrate on the fact that he was the military head of Atlantis and as such, was not privy to falling apart at the seams. A little unraveling, maybe, but not falling apart.

"Colonel, you really aren't going to like the next part, but since we don't know exactly what this chemical is doing to you, I want you to stay in the infirmary until we get this sorted out." Beckett waited for the explosion, but to his surprise, there was none.

"Okay." The reply was soft and uncertain.

Beckett eyed his patient carefully. "I'm sorry, did you say okay?"

Sheppard shifted around again. "I said okay. Doc . . . I'm starting to wonder about this whole bad luck thing. This is a lot, even for me."

Beckett shook his head as he rubbed the side of his face. "Aye, that it is lad. I have no idea how a chemical could cause bad luck, but it does seem a might unlikely to be coincidence. I would say that perhaps your expecting bad luck was making you walk right into it, but there's no way you could have known or controlled any of these situations." He reached out to still Sheppard's hand as he scratched his hip.

John looked down sheepishly. "Sorry, guess I'm starting to itch again."

Beckett nodded. "Stay here and I'll get you something for that." The doctor got up and walked back into the drug room. As he was coming back out, some sort of blaring alarm he'd never heard before went off, making him jump and almost drop the pills he was carrying. Rushing back out into the infirmary, Beckett stopped dead in his tracks to stand open-mouthed and wide-eyed beside an equally shocked Marcy. "What the bloody . . . "

A giant mound of white foam sat almost like a large, lumpy snowman in John Sheppard's bed. One last glop fell from an opening in the ceiling to land on top of the pile, sliding down to reveal a few dark hairs beginning to stick out of the top. One side of the mass moved and a wad of foam was slung off to reveal a hand, which then moved up and made a downward swipe to uncover a face. The soggy bandage on his forehead was beginning to sag down over his eye as the adhesive failed, revealing little wisps of foam clinging to the dark stitches.

The wet, foam laced face that peered out from the white fluffy mass was a picture of misery. John spat some foam out of his mouth, grimacing as he proceeded to cough and gag. His dark eyes looked over at Beckett when he was able to breathe again.

"I . . . quit."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** Another round of thanks to everyone reading and/or reviewing. Special thanks to drufan because I borrowed the review comment about Atlantis thinking John was on fire. See, I really do read all the reviews! You guys are a wealth of ideas! Also thanks to rogue1503 for the idea of Rodney's little spill. What would I do without you guys?

The Bad Luck Charm – Chapter 7

Rushing into the infirmary, McKay tried to come to an abrupt stop at the sight of the foam mess in front of him. The bed Sheppard had formerly occupied was now empty, even the mattress having been stripped off, and pushed back against the wall. Giant blobs of white foam were scattered and smeared on the floor and what remained of the bed. A pile of soggy sheets and blankets lay balled up beside the bed.

Unfortunately for McKay, about the time he had processed the scene and tried to stop his forward progress, he hit a stray glob of foam and completely lost all traction. Beckett came through the door just in time to see McKay's arms pinwheeling frantically as his feet did an uncontrolled, skidding dance all their own. Before the doctor could take so much as a step toward the flailing scientist, McKay's butt hit the floor with a resounding plop.

Regaining his composure, Beckett rushed over to McKay and knelt beside the stunned man. "Rodney, are you all right?"

McKay frowned as he turned to the physician. "Do I look all right? I just slipped and fell on my butt, Carson, and no, I'm not all right. Why don't you have any signs or people to warn you about that? If we were on Earth, I would sue you for everything you have and will have in the future and I'd win. I think I broke my tailbone." McKay winced as he reached his hand back to rub his lower back.

Beckett sighed. If Rodney was whining and threatening, chances were he was okay. "Let's get you up and have a look."

McKay pulled his arm back from Beckett's reach. "Oh, no, you don't. You are _not_ looking at my butt. Not today or any other day. Get your kicks elsewhere, Carson."

"But Rodney, if you really are injured –"

"Just give me some Tylenol and I'll deal," Rodney moaned as he got awkwardly to his feet. "Is Sheppard okay?"

Beckett nodded as he put out a steadying hand. "Aye, we've got him cleaned up and Nick's recasting his arm. Kelly and Marcy are giving him a hand. That foam stuff got all down in his cast and it was getting soft around the edges. Plus, it seems to be a skin irritant and we needed to get it off his arm."

McKay frowned. "A skin irritant? That can't be good on top of the detergent reaction can it?"

Beckett shook his head. "Let's just say he'll probably be miserable for a few days. What is that stuff and why did it get dumped all over the colonel?"

"As I told you on the radio, it's a fire retardant foam, but I have no idea why it was released. Maybe Atlantis thought he was on fire . . . it was probably the hair. The funny thing is that there are six vents for that stuff in this room alone. I would expect an error that resulted in releasing it would do so from all six vents at once, not just one. Radek is running some checks for me to figure it out."

"Dr. Beckett, Dr. Strauhan needs you."

The two men turned around just in time to see Marcy disappear back through the door way. Neither of them missed the urgency in her voice. Hurrying after her, they entered Sheppard's room to find Nick finishing injecting something into the IV while Kelly strapped on an oxygen mask. The bed had him sitting about a forty-five degree angle and someone had attached a heart monitor, as well as a finger pulse oximeter.

"Nick, what's going on?" asked Beckett as he went quickly to Sheppard's bedside. Rodney lingered beside the door, wanting to see while not getting in the way.

"Oxygen levels started dropping suddenly and I was afraid we might have to intubate for a minute, but they're coming back up now."

"What's his level now?"

Kelly checked the monitor beside the bed. "He's up to ninety-two."

"Okay, let's give it a few more seconds. Any sign of what brought this on?" Carson asked, looking past Kelly at the monitor.

Nick began placing the stethoscope around his neck. "He was wheezing a bit by the time we got all that foam cleaned off him, so I've been keeping a close eye on him. I think he either inhaled a lot of fumes or maybe even a little of the foam itself. It's wreaking havoc with his skin, so I can only imagine what it's doing to his lungs."

Beckett turned to Nick, watching as he removed the stethoscope earpieces. "How does he sound?"

"He's got a bit of a rattle, especially in the right lung. You might want to have a listen."

"Ninety-five," reported Kelly.

Beckett sighed as he pulled his stethoscope out of his lab coat pocket. "At least we won't have to intubate him. Keep him on oxygen and don't leave him alone."

"Don't worry, no chance of that," said Nick as he watched Carson listen to Sheppard's lungs.

Carson straightened after a minute and checked the monitor again. "All right, he seems stable again. Why don't you finish up and I'll be outside with Rodney."

Nick nodded as Carson took Rodney by the elbow and guided him back to the main infirmary.

"He should be all right now," said Carson, noticing the color seemed to have drained from Rodney's concerned face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Rodney ran one hand through his hair, leaving a trail of it sticking up at an odd angle as he began pacing back and forth. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Something's not right, Carson. I've been teasing him about the whole curse and bad luck charm thing, but I never actually believed any of it. Well, I still don't buy into the hocus pocus thing, but something is going on. Even Colonel Calamity doesn't have _this_ much bad luck."

"I agree, Rodney. I still think . . . " Carson paused for a minute and stared at Rodney. "Colonel Calamity?" He shook his head. "Anyway, I think it's somehow related to the chemical being released into his system and his latest blood work shows the concentration building. Have you made any progress with that yet?"

"No. You're right that it's somehow interacting with the ATA gene, but I haven't identified how yet."

They both turned at the sound of hurried footsteps to see Elizabeth rush into the infirmary. "Carson, I came as soon as . . . " The expedition leader stopped short and her mouth dropped open as she spotted the foam mess. "Carson . . . what is that?"

The two men looked at one another and then back to Elizabeth. "Well, Rodney says it's fire retardant that was released due to some kind of malfunction. We don't know exactly what caused it yet."

"We do know it's slippery," complained Rodney as he rubbed his backside. When Elizabeth arched her eyebrows at him, he just waved his hand. "Never mind, just don't try running through it."

Elizabeth nodded and grinned as she figured out what must have happened. "I'll remember that." Suddenly realizing whose bed had been underneath the disaster, she began looking around the room. "Where's John?"

"He's been moved to the back room for obvious reasons. Fortunately, he was the only patient at the time. Nick's just recasting his arm." Beckett sighed. "The main problems appear to be that the chemicals in the foam have irritated the skin even further and he's having a bit of trouble breathing at the moment. Nick suspects either inhaling the fumes or some of the foam is responsible. I know he got some in his mouth."

"He didn't swallow any, did he?" asked Elizabeth, worry edging her voice.

"No, he says he didn't and he hasn't shown any sign of gastric distress. He kept his eyes closed and we irrigated quickly to be safe, so those seem to be all right as well, although the lids are a bit red and swollen."

"So, he's going to be okay, right?" asked Elizabeth hesitantly.

"Aye, he should be fine . . . eventually. Of course the recovery process just got longer and a wee bit more distressing."

"Naturally," she replied softly. Elizabeth looked inquisitively at Rodney. "I don't suppose you've made any progress on any of this, have you?"

"Well, of course I've made progress, what do you think I've been doing all this time, knitting? I just don't know anything for sure yet. Give me a little more time, and I'll have something." McKay snapped his fingers. "Let's meet in the morning, after breakfast."

Elizabeth nodded. "All right, meeting in the conference room tomorrow at 0800 and I want you both there. I want Teyla and Ronon there, too. We've got to find a way to protect John from all this . . . " Elizabeth moved both hands in circles as she tried to find the correct words.

"Bad luck?" filled in Rodney.

Elizabeth sighed and rubbed her head. "Bad luck," she admitted.

"I'm on it. Carson, let me know if there's any change?" requested Rodney as he started backing out of the infirmary.

"Yes, Rodney, of course," said Beckett.

"You know, maybe you should cast one of your voodoo magic spells or rattle some chicken bones or something. It couldn't hurt at this point." Rodney turned and headed back to his lab, limping slightly as he muttered to himself about people spreading their bad luck.

Elizabeth looked up at Carson. "Voodoo magic?"

Beckett just sighed loudly. "Just ignore him. That's what I try to do."

"Can I see John?"

Carson nodded. "Aye, Nick should be about done now and I'd like to check on him. Come with me." Beckett led the way to the back room with Sheppard.

Elizabeth was a bit surprised at Sheppard's appearance. His face, neck, and the visible part of his arms were bright red, with a couple of raised welts in his left arm. His eyelids were swollen so that they were capable of opening only a slit. An oxygen mask covered most of the rest of his face. His hair was damp, but still managed to spike up in the back in its typical carefree fashion. Nick was just adjusting John's newly casted right arm in a sling, while the pilot's left hand gripped the bedrail. His face looked deep in concentration and she wasn't sure if he was focusing on breathing or on working through the pain.

"John?" She called softly as she walked up to the bedside. Nick smiled from the other side of the bed.

"I think we're finished, now, colonel. I'll give you a minute to get settled and check back to see how your pain is. The bad news is that I can't give you much more than I already have because of the respiratory problems."

"I'm good," came the muffled reply from under the mask. "Thanks, Nick."

Nick nodded and looked up at Elizabeth. "He's all yours . . . at least for a few minutes."

Elizabeth returned Nick's smile. "Thanks, Nick." She watched him and Carson leave the room and turned back to John. "Hey you, I see you've gotten yourself in some more trouble."

John just nodded very slightly.

Elizabeth frowned, bringing her hand up to touch his face, until she saw how red and irritated the skin looked. She let her hand drop, afraid she would hurt him. "Does it hurt or itch?"

"Both . . . burns and itches," he replied before wheezing in a deep breath.

Now that she was closer, she could hear the rattle when he took in air. "Rodney and Carson are trying to figure out exactly what's going on. Just hang in there."

She could see him try to smile under the mask. "I'll be okay . . . just ugly for a while."

Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh. "John Sheppard, if there is one thing you could never be, it's ugly."

oOo

Elizabeth looked across the table at Carson and John's team, hoping that they could come up with something to help the pilot. "Carson, why don't we start with you since I'm sure we're all anxious to hear about how John is doing."

Carson nodded and folded his hands on the table. "I'm glad to report that his condition has improved. His lungs are much clearer and we've just changed him over to nasal cannula from the oxygen mask. We've started him on some stronger medication for the reaction and the dermatitis is looking marginally better this morning as well. The colonel is still experiencing some burning and itching, but he says it's better than it was last night."

"What about the concussion? Is that still causing him any problems?" asked Elizabeth.

"Well, he still experiences a bit of occasional disorientation and he's got a headache, but that might also be attributed to the amount of medication we have him on or a reaction to the foam he was exposed to, or even a combination of these factors. The man's been through the ringer lately."

Elizabeth sighed and nodded. "I think we'd all agree with you there. Rodney, do you have anything?"

Rodney smiled smugly. "Actually, yes I do. I was going through the sensor readings with a fine-tooth comb last night looking for what caused the foam to be released. There was a very faint energy signature being emitted from the infirmary that spiked momentarily just about the time of the accident. When I back-tracked the energy signature for several days, it's movements coincided with the colonel's movements, so I ran a little scan this morning. As near as I can tell, he's giving off a very faint energy reading that is connected to the Ancient gene. It's like a . . . a . . " Rodney waved his hands around wildly for a few moments as he thought. "It's like a variation of the energy given off by Ancient devices when they're activated and it seems to be getting stronger."

Rodney grinned and crossed his arms, soaking up the surprised expressions around him. Teyla finally reached over and touched his arm. "Are you saying the colonel is giving off an energy reading? How is this possible?"

Rodney's expression fell just a bit. "Well, I haven't actually got that far yet. All I know is that it's connected to the Ancient gene and it's similar to that of Ancient devices. As near as I can tell, as the level of the chemical from the mark builds up in his system, the energy being released is also increasing. I'm not sure what role, if any, it played in the other events, but in the case of the foam, I think it somehow triggered the release."

"If that's true, then maybe we should get him out of Atlantis. He's surrounded by things controlled or affected by the Ancient gene as long as he's here." Ronon pushed his chair back, making the others wonder if he was about to run grab Sheppard and carry him off somewhere.

"I think that's a good idea," said Carson. "I was discussing the possible gene connection with recent events with the colonel this morning and I got the distinct impression he doesn't feel safe here any more."

"Duh, I wonder why?" said Rodney, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"Rodney!" said Elizabeth sharply. "What do you think Carson? Is he in any condition to go to the mainland for a few days? It really might be safer for him until we figure this out."

"I know, lass, but he can't travel just yet. I need his lungs cleared up before I let him get that far away. Maybe tomorrow, he's improved quite a bit since yesterday."

"Teyla, could you check with your people and see if they could arrange a place for John and you to stay for a few days? You could help keep an eye on him and visit your people at the same time."

"I would be happy to and my people will be honored to have Colonel Sheppard," said Teyla as she nodded to Elizabeth.

"I need to go as well," said Carson. "The colonel is still very weak and I'll need to keep an eye on his concussion symptoms and the medications I have him on."

"I'm going," said Ronon in a very commanding voice. No one missed the fact that he wasn't asking.

Elizabeth smiled a bit at the support. "Well, all right. It looks like John will be well looked after. Rodney, I guess you know I need you to stay here and work on this."

Rodney sighed, but the corners of his mouth twitched as he fought off a smile. "Yes, yes, I know. My expertise once again strands me in the city as I work to save the day, or in this case, the colonel. Just the cross I bear."

Elizabeth widened her eyes for a second before quickly looking down. "Oh, yes, Rodney, what ever would be do without you?"

Rodney smiled smugly again. "I really have no idea."

oOo

He was cold and his mouth was dry, too dry. That, combined with the constant, throbbing ache throughout his body made him think of torture. He'd been tortured by people who didn't necessarily want to hear the screams their actions produced, so they used gags. Gags combined with screaming tended to dry the mouth out, sort of like his was now. Fear began to creep in.

His nose itched. When his hand came up to scratch and his fingers brushed against something foreign on his face, he instinctively tried to grab it and get rid of it. Someone latched firmly onto his wrist, restraining him and escalating his fear. John immediately began to pull away and struggle, his heart racing as fear welled up in his chest and he fought to open his eyes. He needed to see the enemy, because more hands were now on him, holding him down.

"Colonel, take it easy lad, it's just Carson. You're safe, we won't let anyone hurt you."

John slowed his frantic squirming at the sound of the familiar voice and finally managed to get his eyes open. Even his eyes felt dry and he had to blink several times to bring the infirmary into focus. Recognizing Beckett, his movements finally stilled. "Sorry," he tried to say, not sure if the hoarse moan was recognizable as a word.

Beckett let go of John's wrist, letting him slide it back down beside him. "Amy's gone to fetch you some water, colonel. Let me sit you up a bit." Beckett raised the head of the bed a few degrees and Amy returned with the promised water. John didn't argue as she held the cup for him, but anxiously drank from the straw, bent over at the top so she didn't have to tilt the cup. Most of the time such action made him feel like he was about four, but right now he was too tired and too thirsty to care what it looked like. He gulped greedily until she pulled the straw from his lips.

"That's enough for now, colonel, you don't want to get sick on us." Amy smiled and set the cup on the table.

Beckett had been watching John, noticing that he seemed to be shivering. "Are you cold?"

"Yeah. I'm always too hot or too cold any more."

Beckett nodded. "I know, lad. We'll get this sorted out eventually. Amy, could you fetch the colonel another blanket?"

Amy nodded, returning with the requested item about the time Beckett finished checking his patient's IV and the bandage covering most of his forehead. The two of them worked together to spread the blanket over Sheppard and tuck it in around him.

"Thanks," he murmured, welcoming the extra layer.

"Let me know if you need anything else," Amy said as she smiled and nodded to Beckett. She then left the two alone and returned to her other duties.

"So, how'm I doing?" asked John as his eyes darted nervously up to the ceiling.

"Better, although I imagine you don't particularly feel that way." Carson glanced up at the ceiling, following Sheppard's gaze. "Rodney thinks he has the foam system where it can't discharge until we get this figured out, so you should be safe."

John looked back down to the doctor. "Sorry, guess I'm a little on edge."

"Perfectly understandable. Do you need anything for the itching or for pain?" Beckett studied Sheppard closely, knowing he would probably brush him off.

"I'm good."

"I hate it when you do that because I never know if you really are or not. Why can't you just tell me how you really feel?" Carson frowned at Sheppard in exasperation.

John paused for a second before answering. "No, I really am okay. I itch and ache a little and my arm hurts some, but it's not bad. You know I don't like to take any more meds than I have to. I hate this fuzzy, disjointed feeling, like I'm not all there."

"I know, colonel. I know. Just please let me know when you're hurting. There's no need to suffer when you don't have to."

John nodded. "I can do that. Hey, didn't you have a meeting this morning? Has Rodney figured out what's going on yet?"

Carson sighed and pulled up a stool, perching on the edge. "Aye, we did meet this morning. You remember that I told you the chemical being absorbed from the mark seemed to be interacting with the Ancient gene. Rodney has determined that you are apparently giving off some kind of energy that is similar to what is released when an Ancient device is activated. He thinks this is somehow interfacing with Atlantis and causing things like the foam release. We discussed it and decided that it might be best if – "

"Hey, Carson, is he awake yet?" Rodney stomped loudly across the room, Teyla and Ronon behind him. "Oh, you're awake. Good. You actually look marginally better, not quite so much like you've been roasted over an open fire. You're breathing's not so noisy as before, either. Maybe you don't need that muffler after all."

John looked at Carson with his mouth hanging slightly open in wonder to find the doctor with a similar expression. How could anyone talk that much or that fast? "Rodney . . . did you need something or did you just come to make fun of me?"

Rodney looked at Carson, his eyes wide. "You didn't tell him yet?"

Carson rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could to make a point. "Well you hardly gave me time. He just woke up and I was trying to explain things when you busted in."

"Oh," said Rodney. "Well, that's okay, I'll tell him. We've arranged for you to go to the mainland and stay with Teyla and the Athosians until we get this figured out. Ronon wants to go because he's your self-proclaimed protector and Carson's going so he can practice his voodoo on you. We thought it might be a bit safer if we got you away from all this Ancient technology."

Normally John would have balked at such a suggestion. Atlantis was his city and he hated anything that drove a wedge between him and her. But the last few days had taken their toll, leaving him physically and mentally exhausted and hurting. He had to get a break soon. He felt like he was starting to lose it. Wraith and Genii he could fight. How do you fight bad luck or a jinx or a curse or whatever the heck this was? He needed help.

"Okay, when do we leave?" John asked, resigned that he had to get away to preserve his sanity, if nothing else.

His team looked a bit stunned at his ready acceptance. Ronon stepped up to stand beside McKay. "I didn't think you'd go for it, Sheppard. I figured you'd think of it as running away."

Sheppard met Ronon's gaze and held it. "It's not running . . . It's a strategic retreat against insurmountable odds."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Note:** Unfortunately, I have caught up with myself. The beginning of school cramped my writing time even more than I anticipated, so chapter 9 may take a couple of days to get up. Sorry – bad planning on my part. And if I manage to get time to type, I'm afraid my brain is cluttered with scenes from Common Ground and possible tags demanding to be written. I will try to hurry as much as possible though. Thanks for your wonderful support!

The Bad Luck Charm – Chapter 8

John looked around his quarters, trying to determine if he had everything. He was fully aware that he could be gone for a while and the thought made him very uncomfortable. He'd told Ronon he wasn't running, but now he felt like that was a lie, that he was running.

Atlantis was his home, but it didn't feel like home any more. The soft hum he'd become accustomed to had slowly changed into a grating static over the last few days. He was no longer in sync with Atlantis and that left him feeling alone and abandoned, even more so than when he'd been trapped in the time dilation field. It was almost like a limb had rejected the rest of his body.

"_Sheppard, are you ready yet, because I'm almost to your quarters_?" McKay's voice came across the radio, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, Rodney, I'm on my way out now." John adjusted his sling and grabbed his bag with his good hand, heading out to the corridor. The door slid open, revealing Rodney approaching from the hall, lifting a finger as if to say something.

McKay opened his mouth to tell Sheppard to hurry and watched in shock as the door closed just as the man reached it. He heard the thump as the colonel undoubted collided with the structure.

"Sheppard?" Rodney rushed over to the door and opened it to reveal Sheppard sitting dazed in the floor, his left hand holding his head. He kneeled beside the pilot, unsure of what to do. "Are you okay? Should I call Carson?"

John continued to press the area around the bandage on his head. "No, I'm okay. Just give me a second."

Rodney was a little surprised at the sad quality of his voice. He'd been expecting anger, but Sheppard almost sounded mournful. Rodney hesitated, then moved his hand to Sheppard's shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay?"

John dropped his hand and looked up at Rodney. "I don't think she wants me here any more," he said softly. His eyes were a little too shiny and he looked almost like a lost child.

"Wh . . . who?" asked Rodney, not sure what Sheppard was talking about. He was afraid the man had taken one too many knocks to the head lately and his hand was already feeling for the radio button to call Carson.

John looked down at the floor. "Atlantis."

Rodney dropped his hand as understanding flooded him. "Oh. It's just this chemical thing messing with the Ancient gene. Once it works its way out of your system, everything will go back to normal."

John looked back up at Rodney, his eyes pleading. "Do you know that for sure?"

"Of course." He looked at John for a second. "Well, I think it will. Oh, okay, I have no idea, but I'm still sure it will all be fine."

John began getting to his feet and McKay latched onto his good arm and helped him. After several seconds of swaying, he pushed Rodney's hand away. "Okay, I've got it. What happened to that eternally pessimistic attitude anyway?"

Rodney looked offended. "I'm not a pessimist, I'm a realist. There's a difference. Just for that, you can carry your own bag, broken arm or not."

"Fine, I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own bag anyway."

John struggled to pick up the bag he normally would not have had any trouble with, a testament to how weak he'd become over the last few days. Rodney watched for several seconds before jerking it out of his hand. "Oh, give that to me, you stubborn idiot. Why can't you ever just ask for help?"

"It's not in my nature," answered John as they walked down the hall.

"Well, maybe it's time to change your nature," Rodney responded.

oOo

John sat on the bench in the back of the jumper and Carson sat down across from him. Ronon and Teyla took seats in the front, behind Lt. Bond.

"Doc, you don't have to baby sit me, I won't break." The hovering was beginning to wear on John's nerves.

"Rodney told me about your little mishap with the door, so it won't hurt for me to keep an eye on you. I want a look at your head wound when we get to the mainland."

John sighed. "Tattletale."

Carson's mouth turned up at the edges. "Aye, that he is, but he's genuinely worried about you. You should be flattered, colonel. It's an odd thing when Rodney worries about someone besides himself."

John smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I know. Rodney's okay. He's just . . . annoying sometimes."

Carson nodded and sighed as well. "Yes, there is that."

"Everyone loaded and ready?" inquired Lt. Bond from the pilot's chair.

"We're all ready," answered Beckett before Sheppard could respond. It grated on his nerves how not in control he was. His right arm useless and in a sling, his head all bandaged and aching, and the rest of him still covered with rashes, welts, and bruises. Put all that together and he felt totally helpless. Helpless and ousted from his home by the city that he loved. How could it get any worse?

John was vaguely aware of the back hatch closing and Lt. Bond talking with the control room. Several seconds later, the jumper began to lift toward the opening in the ceiling of the jumper bay. It seemed to hover several feet off the ground before lurching to one side and then dropping heavily to the ground.

The sudden drop caused everyone to shift violently in their seat, with Beckett and Sheppard being dumped unceremoniously in the floor. Beckett sat up and shook his head, clearing the cobwebs from his thoughts. "Is everyone all right?"

He heard a chorus of "Yes," from the front of the jumper and a quick look confirmed that everyone was still in their seat and moving around. He looked over to find Sheppard pulling himself up to a sitting position with his back against the bench. Beckett moved over to sit beside Sheppard.

"Colonel, are you all right?'

John just leaned over and put his face in his good hand. "Well, crap."

oOo

Elizabeth walked up the open hatch and stood watching Beckett tape the fresh bandage on John's forehead. "Lt. Bond said to tell you they've checked Jumper Three with a fine toothed comb and it's ready to transport you to the mainland. I'll have Rodney take a look at Jumper Two and see if he can figure out what went wrong."

John looked forlornly at Elizabeth as Beckett packed away his materials. "I know what went wrong. Me. Whatever this is . . . it's screwing with the Ancient gene. Atlantis sounds different to me now, like the connection is messed up and filled with static. I'm not sure another jumper will work if I'm in it."

"Well, Lt. Bond is ready to try." She walked over to put her hand on his shoulder. "If it's getting as bad as you say, we need to get you out of here."

John frowned as he looked up at her. "What if I can't come back?"

Elizabeth was taken aback and stood silently for several seconds. "Why would you even ask that? Of course you'll be able to come back. Where's all that optimism you usually have? Rodney will figure this out and you'll be back in no time."

John smiled, but no one believed for a moment it was genuine. "Yeah, you're right. I guess I was just having a pity moment. I'll be fine."

Elizabeth turned to Beckett, but he just shrugged as he met her gaze. He had no idea what to say. He had no idea when this would be over. John got up and walked silently past them, heading for the other jumper.

"Watch him for me," Elizabeth said softly, watching her second in command walk slowly away from her, his head bowed and his gait pained. "I'm worried about him."

Carson gave her a comforting pat on the back. "We'll take care of him, but tell Rodney to hurry every chance he gets. I think this is beginning to take an emotional toll that may be hard to fix."

A few minutes later, they had everything transferred to Jumper Three and the passengers once again settled. As the jumper began to rise, everyone was tense, expecting a disaster of some kind. But much to their pleased surprise, the ship lifted effortlessly into the sky and began its journey to the mainland. Elizabeth could almost swear there was a collective sigh of relief as the jumper cleared the opening in the ceiling. Now she just had to wait to hear they had arrived safely.

oOo

The jumper made it to the mainland without any more problems. As the back hatch lowered, Sheppard tried not to dwell on the fact that Atlantis had practically kicked him out. He was tired and hurting and he just wanted to curl up somewhere alone. So naturally there was a welcoming party of Athosians to greet them. John took a deep breath and tried to plaster at least a small smile on his face. The smile faded when he stepped out into the sunlight and heard the collective gasp. He'd forgotten about his blotchy and bruised appearance. They probably thought he'd brought the plague or something. This would be a good time for the world to open and swallow him up, he thought with despair, before thinking that with his luck, that would probably happen.

"Colonel Sheppard, it is good to see you." He knew it was Halling even before the man stepped forward. Halling could always be counted on, no matter what the circumstances.

"Halling. Thanks for giving me a place to stay until we get this mess sorted out." He didn't have to fake the gratitude. It was very real.

Halling gave a slight bow. "We are honored to be able to help. I believe Teyla is staying with Sani and we have set up a large dwelling tent for you and your team. Come and I will show you."

Halling led the way as they followed along, several of the Athosians offering greetings and support as they walked. John was feeling weak and useless again as Ronon had insisted on carrying his bag, leaving him the only one that was empty handed. He was aware that his feet were dragging and he was tiring quickly. They reached a large tent several minutes later and Halling held the door open so they could enter. It was spacious, with three cots made up and spaced far enough apart as to give each man a bit of privacy. John was impressed.

"This is great, Halling. I hope we aren't putting anyone out by being here."

"Of course not, colonel. We try to have one or two dwellings for visitors, even though we don't travel through the gate much any more. We still periodically get visits from your people in Atlantis and we like to be prepared. The noon meal will be served shortly, but you have time to rest if you'd like." Halling hadn't missed the lines of pain and exhaustion set in the colonel's face.

John smiled and nodded. "I just might take you up on that."

"I'd suggest you do just that," added Carson. "In fact, I insist."

Teyla, who had followed them in, walked over to Sheppard and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I will leave you to rest and see you at the noon meal." She bowed her head forward and John followed suit, touching their foreheads together. As she left, the others echoed the command for John to rest before leaving right behind her. John stood alone in the tent for several minutes, waiting for some calamity to strike. When nothing happened, he tentatively laid down on one of the cots. Hot, he lay on top of the blankets and shifted restlessly for several minutes before he was able to relax enough to go to sleep.

oOo

John sat in the Athosian made chair in front of the fire, enjoying the fact that he had made it to nightfall without any more disasters. He had been cold once again and so had moved the chair closer to the warm flames. He had no idea about the construction of the strange looking piece of furniture, but it was the most comfortable chair he remembered sitting in. It felt almost like a hammock and it hadn't taken long for him to relax back into it.

He watched his friends, sitting around the fire talking and laughing. Carson was talking to Teyla, and Ronon was talking to Halling. Bits and pieces of the conversations drifted over to him, but mostly he just enjoyed listening to their voices. He suddenly realized he was smiling and had let his head lean back to rest against the back of the chair. He was finally relaxed. He'd been tense the first few hours, waiting and wondering what disaster would befall him next. As the day wore on and nothing bad happened, he'd finally begun to let go. Their words blurred together until all he heard was the comforting familiarity of their tones and genuineness of their laughter.

"John?"

John opened his eyes and pulled his head upright. Looking around, he saw the fire had gone out and someone had spread a blanket over him. "I guess I dozed off," he said sleepily just before yawning.

Teyla smiled and nodded. "Yes, some time ago. We thought it best to let you sleep for a while, but now it is time to go to bed."

"I'm coming," he said. The problem with the most comfortable chair in the galaxy was getting out of it with one arm. The chair was deep and soft and he couldn't seem to get any leverage.

Ronon's hand suddenly appeared in front of him as he struggled to find a good place to hold and push up. He hesitated a second, looking up at the former runner. Ronon just nodded down to his hand, his expression relaxed and open. John accepted the help and Ronon pulled him up and out of the chair, not letting go until John had his legs securely under him.

"Thanks," he said simply, slightly embarrassed by his weakness.

"There's no shame in accepting help, Sheppard."

John looked up at Ronon, studying his face. "Tell me that again when you're the one being helped."

Ronon snorted and shook his head. "You already helped me, remember. I'm no longer a runner and I have a place to live because of you."

John looked down at the ground as they walked to the tent. "That wasn't me. Beckett removed the transmitter and Elizabeth okayed you staying in Atlantis and being on my team."

Ronon stopped and turned to face the pilot. "But you made it happen. Like it or not, Sheppard, you helped me." Ronon paused and then turned away, almost hiding the next comment as he pushed into the tent. "You helped me more than you'll ever know."

oOo

His eyes opened and he lay looking at the ceiling of the tent for a minute before he figured out where he was. As his hearing decided to join his sight in the land of awareness, he realized he could hear snoring. Lifting his head a couple of inches, he could just barely make out Carson and Ronon on their cots in the gray light of early morning. Letting his head drop back down to the pillow, he pulled the blanket up closer to his neck with this good hand. Normally he would have been up by now, but there was no point today. He couldn't run and Carson had forbid him doing any kind of work. Even Ronon seemed to be sleeping in this morning. He had to admit, just lying in bed with no expectations for the day had a certain appeal to it.

When he opened his eyes again, the tent was filled with the brighter light of a full morning. He hadn't even been aware he was dropping back off. He craned his neck to the side to find the other cots empty. He was still in no hurry to get up and he wondered if he should be worried about his apathy. Sound from outside the tent, accompanied by familiar voices, told him his teammates were just beyond the door. Part of him wanted to join them and part of him was enjoying the quiet lethargy of staying put. He huddled under the blanket as another chill passed through him. Stupid bad luck charm.

The door opened and Carson eased in quietly.

"It's okay, Doc, I'm awake. Just laying here being lazy for a minute longer."

Beckett smiled and nodded. "Quite alright, colonel. You're entitled to some rest after the week you've had, but we were getting a might worried. It's not like you to sleep this late."

John pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the cot, shivering in the cool morning air. "Yeah, I know. I was just . . . tired. Please tell me we have coffee."

"Aye, I made sure we brought some. Come join us and I'll get you some breakfast as well."

"Okay, be there in a few minutes." When Carson left, John got dressed, which was an adventure all its own. Funny how you never realized you really needed _both_ hands to get dressed until you only had one.

"Colonel, do you need some help?" Beckett stuck his head in the tent.

"No . . . I got it." He'd brought his running shoes thinking they'd be more comfortable, but he was having problems trying the laces. He struggled for several more tries before giving up and walking out of the tent.

"I put your coffee and breakfast on the table," said Beckett, looking down at the untied laces. "Stop."

John froze and looked around expectantly. "What's wrong, Doc?"

Beckett kneeled and tied Sheppard's laces. "The way you're luck is going, you'll trip over these and break your neck."

John was a bit embarrassed to have someone tying his shoes for him, but he had to agree with the probability of breaking his neck and he figured he had enough broken bones to last a while. "Thanks, Carson. I don't think I could handle any more broken bones."

Carson stood and nodded. "Aye, me either. You're wearing me out son."

John snickered as he sat down at the table under the trees to a plate of fruit and some kind of rolls. "Just making you earn your keep, doc. Don't want you to get lazy on us."

Beckett snorted. "Not much danger of that. I need to give you a check after you've eaten, so don't run off."

John stopped chewing and looked up at Beckett. "Like I could _run_ anywhere. Get real, Carson." John smiled as he looked back down at his plate. He'd slept well last night and he was beginning to really relax. They had been here almost twenty-four hours and nothing bad had happened to him. Maybe getting out of Atlantis until McKay figured the whole thing out had been the answer. He had to admit, now that he was beginning to feel safe, he was enjoying the down time.

"Colonel Sheppard! Colonel Sheppard!"

John looked up to see Jinto running toward the table and instinctively tensed for an impact. The boy, however, managed to stop himself in time and only bumped the edge of the table, sloshing some of John's coffee over the side of the cup.

"Hey, Jinto, how have you been?" John asked, grinning at the youngster's enthusiasm.

"Hi, Colonel Sheppard. I heard you broke your arm. That's so cool! Did you do it fighting the Wraith . . . or maybe the Genii?" His face was bright and his eyes wide, waiting for some story of heroic actions that had left John injured.

John sighed, but decided to be truthful. "Well, actually, uh, I kind of got knocked down some stairs." He quickly glanced down at his coffee and began mopping up the spillage so he'd miss the look of disappointment that he knew filled the boy's face.

"You fell down stairs?"

Yeah, the disappointment was in his voice as well, making John cringe inwardly. He'd always been slightly embarrassed, but very flattered at the obvious case of hero worship that Jinto had for him. He guessed that was over now. Hard to be impressed by someone who breaks bones falling down a set of stairs.

"He only fell down the stairs because one of the people on a planet we visited put a curse on him because he has the gene of the Ancestors," explained Teyla. "The colonel has had many bad things happen to him because of this and he is here to get some rest." John smiled as Teyla winked at him.

Jinto's eyes widened so much that John thought they might pop out. "Wow, really? A curse? That's so cool."

John snorted. "Cool is not the word I would use to describe it. Painful, maybe. Annoying, definitely."

"Wait til I tell the others!" Jinto turned around and took about two running steps before he skidded to a stop and twisted back to face John. "Hey, I almost forgot. I have something I want to show you, but we have to walk a ways to get there. Will you go?"

John looked up at Carson, who shook his head. "Not this morning, colonel. Let me see how you're doing after lunch and if it's not too far, you might be able to go."

"I have to get at least a little exercise or I'll get fat and lazy," commented John.

"I thought you were already lazy," said Ronon.

"Okay, I'll get fat and even lazier," corrected John. "Remember Carson, exercise is good for you."

Carson grinned. "We'll see, colonel. I'll not be compromising your recovery because you're getting bored."

John looked at Jinto and shrugged his shoulders. "Come back after lunch and I'll talk him into it."

"Okay!" yelled the boy as he sprinted off.

Carson crossed his arms and tried to glare at John. "Talk me into it, huh? We'll just see about that."

oOo

John did talk Carson into letting him go, but only be being the model patient. He ate his breakfast, sat patiently during Carson's exam, and even took a nap after lunch. Carson had been so pleased that nothing else had gone wrong and that Sheppard had relaxed enough that his blood pressure was back to normal that he had let the pilot go on Jinto's walk. John had tried not to be obvious that the temperature issues were still there. He was getting used to always being too hot or too cold.

He'd talked to Elizabeth and Rodney after lunch. Rodney was no closer to discovering the cause of this mess, so he wouldn't be going home any time soon. He'd tried not to let that depress him, but he couldn't help but feel the biting disappointment. The walk with Jinto was a nice distraction and he wondered if that was part of the reason Carson had let him go.

"Jinto, how much farther?" asked John. They had been walking almost an hour and he was starting to tire.

"We're almost there, but we have to be very quiet now," Jinto whispered.

John followed the boy as he crept carefully up a small hill and eased himself down to his stomach so he could peek over the edge. John ended up lying more on his side to protect his broken arm. They were surrounded by trees, but the field they were looking down on was mostly tall grasses and wildflowers. He scanned the open meadow until he saw movement at the far end. As they watched, a heard of animals that looked like a cross between deer and moose came wandering out, grazing as they went. They were large and dark brown, with horns that were flattened at the base, but more cylindrical at the ends. Several small young ones ran around their parents, butting each other and playing. John and Jinto lay there watching quietly for quite a while before Sheppard's radio came to life, scaring the herd into running back into the forest.

"_Colonel Sheppard, this is Dr. Beckett. Where are you?"_

John smiled and rolled over on his back. "Leave it to the Doc," he muttered as he reached for his radio button. "I'm _fine_, Carson. We were watching a herd of deer until you scared them off."

"_Sorry about that, colonel, but I think you've had enough exercise for one day."_

John grinned. "Okay, Doc, we're on our way back. Give us about an hour before you panic."

"_You have one hour and then I'm coming after you. Neither one of us wants that. Beckett out."_

John turned his head to look at Jinto, who was also now lying on his back. "Thanks, Jinto, that was great. Do you guys have a name for them?"

"We call them calani. I knew you would like them. We hunt them sometimes for food, when we need the meat, but I like to watch them."

"Yeah, they're really neat. I guess we better get back before Carson comes after me."

Jinto looked at Sheppard. "You are not afraid of the doctor, are you?"

John laughed. "No, of course not. I've just learned that sometimes it makes life easier if you let him get his way and think you're afraid of him."

Jinto laughed. "Yes, I know what you mean. I do that with my father sometimes."

They laughed as they got to their feet and began walking back down the hill. John couldn't help but think that this felt good, to laugh and not be afraid. He was suddenly really glad they had come to the mainland. He still wanted to go back to Atlantis, to his lady, but for now he was content to just relax and not worry. They walked for several minutes until they came to a clearing.

"Do the calani ever graze in this field?" asked John, thinking this would be a little closer to the Athosian village.

"No, I have never seen them here or found their sign. My father and I have wondered why they do not feed here, since there is a lot of good food for them here."

"That is weird," said John as they reached the middle of the open area. A low rumble caught his attention and he glanced worriedly at Jinto. "What was that?" They had stopped and were both scanning the surrounding area for any sign of trouble.

"I don't know. I have never heard that sound before."

The rumble came back and with it, the ground began to shake violently, throwing them both down. John was trying to keep an eye on Jinto in case he needed help, but as he tried to make his way closer to the boy, there was an explosion of dirt and grass in his face and he felt himself falling.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

The Bad Luck Charm – Chapter 9

Beckett walked out of the tent to see Teyla hurrying toward him. "Teyla, is something wrong?"

"No," she said. "I have been talking about Colonel Sheppard's problem with Sani. She was one of Charin's closest friends and she believes she remembers such a curse as what Karyan has placed on the colonel. She does not remember the specific treatment, but she told me where to go to find out more."

"There's a treatment for a curse?" Beckett asked, amazed.

"There is a treatment for removing the mark that has been placed on the colonel. It is as you have said, a chemical in the mark seeps into the body and poisons it."

"And this Sani has told you where to go to find the treatment?"

Teyla nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, but I need access to the stargate to get there."

Beckett nodded as he looked at his watch. "Okay, let me contact Colonel Sheppard. He said he'd be back by ten minutes ago and I'm starting to get worried. Once we determine he's all right, we'll contact Atlantis to send a jumper for you." He tapped his radio button. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Dr. Beckett again. Where are you, lad?"

Receiving no answer, he glanced anxiously at Teyla. "Colonel Sheppard, please come in." After a few seconds of silence, he looked at Teyla. "The colonel's with Jinto. Do you know where they went?"

"No, but Halling might." Teyla led the way across the settlement to where Halling and Ronon sat outside his tent, scaling the fish they had caught earlier.

"Halling, Jinto took Colonel Sheppard on a walk to show him something this afternoon. Do you know where they went?" asked Beckett.

Ronon stood immediately, sensing something was wrong from both Teyla and the doctor. "What's happened?"

Beckett swallowed hard as he looked from Ronon to Halling. "They were due back several minutes ago and now I can't raise them on the radio."

Halling stood to join Ronon. "Jinto wanted to show the colonel the herd of calani."

Beckett nodded. "Yes, that would be right. When I talked to him a little over an hour ago, he said they had been watching a herd of animals. He must have been talking about these calani. Can you show me where they went to see them?"

"Yes, of course. Jinto and I have been many times. We should take some people with us in case they are injured."

"Aye, I'll grab some of my medical equipment and call Atlantis. They'll want to send a jumper and maybe some help for us as well." Beckett sighed heavily. "I knew things were too bloody calm."

oOo

Someone was crying and that stuck John as odd. He'd awakened to many sounds since coming to Atlantis, but crying was not one he was used to. Who could be crying? He struggled to open his eyes as he brought his left hand up to his head and was rewarded with a face full of falling dirt. Spitting and sputtering, he wiped the dirt from his face and tried to sit up. When he tensed the muscles in his legs, he yelped at the sudden stabbing pain in his upper right leg and collapsed back to the ground.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

He almost didn't hear his name. His head was spinning and he'd broken out in a cold sweat as he fought back the climbing nausea. A hand touched his shoulder and he realized the crying had stopped. He opened his eyes to see Jinto's dirty, tear-streaked face looking down at him.

"Jinto?" he whispered, because he didn't have the energy to talk louder.

"Colonel Sheppard, you finally woke up. I've been so scared."

Awareness was beginning to come back with some speed now, and he looked Jinto over. The boy was covered with dirt and stray pieces of dried grass. He was cradling his right arm against his body, but otherwise seemed unhurt. John could see the sky above them . . . way above them. They were in a deep hole, eight feet across at the bottom and slightly wider at the top. He estimated they were approximately thirty feet deep. No wonder he hurt.

"Jinto, what happened? Where are we?" He thought he remembered walking across a field, but how had they ended up here?

"I don't know, the ground just opened up into this big pit."

John looked around for signs of an abandoned mine or underground structure, but saw none. "Sinkhole?"

"What is a sinkhole?" asked the frightened boy.

"Well, where I come from, the ground isn't very stable in some places, but you can't always tell. One day a big hole just sinks down in the ground, taking anything with it that happens to be around at the time, houses, people, anything." He distinctly remembered reading some articles about just this type of thing.

Jinto was doing his best to be brave, but his arm hurt worse than any injury he'd ever had before and he was terrified. He had no idea why the ground would open up into a big hole like this, but he wanted out. He could feel the tears coming again and he tried to wipe them away with his good hand.

Seeing the fear and pain in the boy's face, John reached up for his radio, only to find it gone. He looked around at the piles of loose dirt and realized the chances of finding it were pretty much nil. "Hey, Jinto, it's going to be okay. Dr. Beckett is expecting us and as soon as I'm a minute late, they'll come looking for us." He tried to grin at the boy. "You know how much Dr. Beckett hovers. Does your dad know where we went?"

Jinto stopped crying and lifted his head, his expression brightening a little. "Yes, he does. My father and I have come to look at the calani many times together, so he knows the way well."

John tried to smile for the boy. "Well, there you go. Carson will go tell your dad and the two of them will bring a rescue party in no time." John looked at his watch to see if he could estimate how long that would be, but as he should have expected, the watch was broken. He glanced back at Jinto, noticing the way he held his arm carefully against his body. "Is your arm broken?"

Jinto looked at him blankly. "I do not know. I've never had a broken arm before."

"I should probably take a look, but I can't do it lying down. Let me try to sit up again." John grit his teeth against the pain in his leg, and slowly dragged himself into a sitting position next to the wall. His eyes were watering by the time he finished and he had to swallow convulsively to keep from hurling. He must have banged his broken arm in the fall because it was throbbing relentlessly along with the stabbing pain in his leg. He almost cried out as he ran his good hand along his right thigh. So much for the lull in his bad luck; he was pretty sure it was broken.

When he could breathe again without fear of tossing his lunch, he turned to Jinto. "Okay, let's look at that arm." He just had to keep Jinto calm and himself conscious for a little while and his team would be here to get them out. He could do that.

oOo

"How much farther?" asked Ronon as they trekked through the woods.

"Not far," replied Halling, worry edging his voice. "We must cross this clearing and then it is about ten or fifteen minutes from . . . " Halling stopped short a few steps into the clearing. "What is that?" He pointed to an obvious disturbance in the ground just about dead center of the field.

They cautiously approached the area in the fading light, wishing they could see better. Coming up to the edge, they realized what it was. Halling began to move forward, but stopped as they heard dirt falling from the edge into the hole, followed by coughing. Halling smiled back at Beckett, Teyla, and Ronon. "I hear them." He got down on his belly and crawled the last few feet to peer over the edge of the hole.

"Jinto?"

John and Jinto looked up to see Halling peeking over the edge, relief flooding them both.

"Father! We are here"

"I know son. We have brought help with us and a jumper from Atlantis should arrive soon." He could hear Teyla on the radio, relaying instructions to the field to the jumper pilot. Beckett crawled up next to him.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

John saw Carson pop his head over the side and thought he'd never been so happy to see the doctor. "Hey, Doc. We ran into a bit of a problem."

"So it would seem. Are you and Jinto injured?"

"I think Jinto broke his arm and, as luck would have it, I've broken my leg."

Carson winced. Just what the man needed on top of everything else, a broken leg. "Just hang on colonel, we'll get you out of there in a jiffy." Turning at a bump to his arm, Carson took the flashlight Teyla had extended to him. Hitting the switch, he shined the light down the hole and illuminated the two trapped people. They were sitting side by side, propped up against the wall of the hole, both of them so dirty they could barely see their faces.

"Doctor, the jumper is here." At Teyla's announcement, Beckett looked up to see the jumper hovering above the hole for a second before moving over to land at the edge of the field.

"A jumper just arrived with help, colonel. We should have you out shortly and then I'm not letting you out of my sight again." Beckett got up and joined the other Lanteans walking over to meet the soldiers descending on the hatch door.

Major Lorne emerged last and made his way quickly over to Beckett and the members of Sheppard's team. "Dr. Beckett, what have we got?"

"I guess you saw the sinkhole that opened up. Jinto and Colonel Sheppard are at the bottom of that thing and they're both injured. The sides seem unstable, so I imagine it will be difficult getting them out."

John shivered, the uncontrolled movement sending shards of pain through his leg. He'd been getting colder and colder the last hour and could no longer control the tremors running through him. Jinto edged closer and looked up at him.

"You're cold."

John smiled down at the boy, who was obviously trying to help. "I'm getting a little cold. How about you?"

Jinto shook his head. "No, I'm not cold, but my arm hurts. Does your leg hurt very bad?"

"I'll be okay," John said, purposely evading the question. He didn't feel up to lying believably but he didn't want to tell the boy just how much his leg did hurt. "You know, Dr. Beckett will put a cast on your arm, like mine, and people you know can sign it and write messages. I'll find you a Sharpie before you go back home."

Jinto's face lit up. "A cast like yours? Cool. What's a Sharpie?"

John grinned, feeling silly for having brought it up. "It's a special pen people can write on your cast with so that it doesn't rub off. Signing someone's cast is a tradition where I come from. I guess it's kind of a way for your friends to let you know they're there for you."

Jinto looked down at the part of Sheppard's cast visible around the sling. "You don't have many names on yours."

John sighed and looked down at the cracked, dirty cast. "I've already had this thing replaced once and then I was sick for a while, so not many people were able to sign it."

"And then you came here."

John nodded. "Yeah. Guess now I'll need another new cast. Carson's going to love this." A spray of dirt caught them in the face. When the mini-avalanche was finished, John wiped the dirt from his face and looked up to see a tarp had been thrown over the edge of the hole. Three faces peered over the edge.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

John brushed another round of dirt from his face, blinking his eyes rapidly to clear them. "Major Lorne, is that you?" He thought he could see Lorne along with Halling and Beckett.

"Yes, sir, it's Lorne. I heard you had _fallen_ into some trouble and might need a hand out."

John snorted loudly. "Funny. I wouldn't quit my day job just yet. Piece of advice, Major. If you're ever tempted to wish for the world to open up and swallow you, don't. Now, how long til you get us out of here?"

"We're working on it, sir. The sides are unstable and we're making sure it's not going to collapse on you during the rescue."

"Humph, that would be just my luck," muttered Sheppard to himself. He looked up to see Jinto watching him and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, moment of whining there."

"How are you two holding up, colonel?" yelled Beckett.

"We're okay for now. Just hurry every chance you get."

He bit his lip in an effort not to moan as he shifted his weight, sending waves of pain through his leg. When he caught his breath, he exhaled slowly and turned back to the boy. "We'll be out of here in no time."

The three men crawled back several feet before standing and were then joined by Teyla and Ronon. "I think we need to have the medic repel down and check them out," said Lorne. "Then we can lift them out one at a time. We'll need a litter for the colonel if his leg's broken."

"Do you think the sides are stable enough for that?" asked Ronon.

"I hope so," the major replied. "We should make sure they are on the opposite side before we start, just in case. I've got a couple of men trying to determine the most stable spot to work from."

"I'm going down," said Carson insistently. "The colonel's not going to be in very good shape with this piled on top of everything else."

Lorne shook his head. "Not happening, Doc, unless you can convince me you're an expert at repelling in dangerous situations. I've got a medic that _is_ such an expert. That's why I brought him."

Carson opened his mouth, but thought better of his protest and closed it again. As much as he wanted to get to Sheppard, he knew Lorne was right. "All right, Major, we'll do it your way. But the light is gone and it's getting chilly out here. We need to get them out soon."

Lorne nodded. "I know, Doc, so let me get to it." Lorne turned and went back to his men, leaving Carson and the others to stand nervously and worry about the trapped pair.

It was another thirty minutes before Lorne's man was ready to go. They had shifted their work area around to what appeared to be the most stable spot and secured a line for the medic. Beckett and Lorne crawled over to the edge and peered down in the hole with the flashlight. Sheppard's head was leaned back against the wall and his eyes were closed. Jinto was huddled up next to him, his head bowed as he held his arm still. When the light hit them, Jinto looked up at them, blinking against the bright light at first.

"Jinto," called Lorne. "Can you wake the colonel?'

They watched as Jinto gently prodded Sheppard. "Colonel Sheppard, they need you to wake up." Jinto reached up to Sheppard's shoulder and shook it a little more vigorously. Sheppard responded by lifting his head and bringing his hand up to rub his face and then shield his eyes.

"Yeah?" he called. His voice was rough and hoarse and they barely heard him.

"Colonel," called Lorne. "We need you to move over until you are as far away from us as possible. We're ready to send the medic down, but we still aren't sure how stable the sides are."

John gave Lorne the thumbs up sign because it seemed to require less energy than yelling. His energy had faded significantly while they waited and he was shivering uncontrollably, his teeth chattering every so often. "Come on Jinto, we've got to move over a few feet. Think you can manage?"

Jinto nodded. John thought the boy had grown pale and his expression looked pained. The light from the flashlight was showing him what he'd suspected, but not really known. John put his good hand on the ground and scooted sideways a few inches, discovering two things. His butt was completely numb and his leg definitely wasn't. He grit his teeth and worked hard not to yell at the agony that gripped his leg. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself sideways again, this time emitting a small yelp when he let himself down.

"Colonel Sheppard . . . are you okay?"

John focused on Jinto's voice as he waited on the spinning to stop. When he could finally see enough to make out the boy's face, he breathed a sigh of relief. Jinto had moved over to sit next to him again. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm good."

"Okay, colonel, that's probably far enough," Lorne called from the top. "Sgt. Clements is coming down now." Lorne got up and walked over to the young, black medic who was checking his repelling gear.

"Major, I'll take the medical pack with me and then you can lower the litter for the colonel."

"We can lower that after we get Jinto out," said Lorne.

The medic stopped and looked up at Lorne and then Beckett. "But I thought Colonel Sheppard was injured the most seriously."

Beckett sighed and nodded. "Aye, he is, but I can already tell you he won't leave until Jinto is outta that hole."

The medic looked at Lorne for confirmation. "He's right, Sgt., the colonel won't budge until everyone else is okay, so there's no use arguing with him. Let's just get the boy out as quickly as possible and then we'll worry about Colonel Sheppard."

The medic just nodded and began backing toward the hole, medical supplies in the backpack he carried on his back. Lorne watched as Clements repelled down the side of the hole, kicking dirt loose as he went and sending a shower of dirt raining down on the two trapped people.

Jinto bent over in an effort to avoid the falling soil and Sheppard leaned over him as best he could, trying to ignore what it was doing to his leg. When the spray stopped, he straightened, panting slightly as he leaned back against the wall, pushing his head into the soft dirt as he held his breath for a few seconds.

"Colonel? Are you still with me?"

John opened his eyes to see the medic kneeling beside him. "I'm good, Sgt. You need to tend to the boy first. I think his arm is broken, but I didn't have anything to immobilize it with."

"I'll check his arm and then we'll have a look at that leg," said Clements, still trying to get a look at Sheppard.

"Negative. Get Jinto out first and then you can deal with me. That's an order, Sgt." John was hoping his voice tone told the man he was serious, even if the volume didn't.

"Yes, sir." Accepting that Lorne and Beckett had told him the truth, Clements turned to Jinto and removed the pack from his back. Several minutes later, he had boy's arm splinted and had checked him over for other injuries. Finding none, he looked Jinto in the eyes. "I'm going to put you in a harness and they're going to lift you to the top. I believe your dad is waiting up there, along with Dr. Beckett."

Jinto nodded, the pain taking a bit of a backseat to the excitement. "I can do it," he said firmly. "I'm not scared. What about Colonel Sheppard, is he going to be okay?"

"Yes, he'll be fine. As soon as we get you out, I'll get him all fixed up and we'll get him out as well. I hear he has an appointment with the good doctor himself."

"Bunch of comedians," mumbled Sheppard as he cracked his eyes open and gave a half smile to Jinto. "Just do what he says and you'll be fine. I'll join you in just a few minutes."

"Okay, colonel." He stood with Clements' help, but then turned back to Sheppard. "Thanks for telling me the stories while we waited . . . you know, so I wouldn't be scared."

"Actually that was so I wouldn't be scared," said Sheppard, winking at Jinto.

Jinto grinned and turned back to join the medic near the far wall. Clements hooked Jinto up to the harness and then touched his radio. "Okay, Jinto is ready. Take it slow and easy, his arm is broken."

John watched through half-lidded eyes as Jinto rose farther and farther. When he was a little over halfway, he bumped the wall of the hole, sending a cascade of dirt pouring into the hole. John winced as he bent over and covered his head with his hands. When the dirt and small pebbles quit pounding him in the head, he pushed the dirt off his upper body and looked up. He could just see Jinto being hauled over the top, lights from many flashlights or possibly the jumper illuminating the area.

Sgt. Clements responded to something on the radio and then turned back to Sheppard. "Jinto made it to the top okay and Dr. Beckett is with him. Now let's have a look at you."

Clements was surprised at how cold Sheppard's skin felt when he took his wrist for a pulse. When he finished, he reached in the pack for the blood pressure cuff. "How long have you been cold?"

John was fighting to keep his eyes open, but it felt like a loosing battle. "Don't know . . . a while."

After checking his pressure, Clements got up and went to the opposite side to get the litter they were lowering down to him. Dirt once again rained down on the medic as he grabbed the stretcher and unhooked it. Carrying over to Sheppard, he lay it down beside the man. "Okay, let's see if we can get that leg splinted so we can move you. This may hurt a bit."

John nodded. "Just do it and . . . let's get out of here."

It was several minutes before Sheppard was splinted and ready for transport. He had to work with Clements to get himself moved into the litter. The medic then hit his radio button. "I've got the colonel ready to be lifted out. I'll need to get the litter moved over to the far wall before you can lift it out, but I'll need your help. Pull very slowly when I say go." He quickly double checked to be sure Sheppard was secured. "Okay, go."

Clements lifted as the people above pulled on the ropes to the litter, dragging it lightly across the ground to the wall of the hole.

"Okay, we're going up now." He held onto the moving stretcher until he could no longer reach it and watched carefully as it slowly bumped up the side. He thought he heard a low moan as the litter took a particularly hard jolt. It seemed to take forever, but it was just a few minutes until the people at the top were pulling the litter over the edge and moving away from the hole.

Beckett came up along side the litter as the marines carried it away from the hole. "Take it directly to the jumper and I'll see to the colonel on the way to Atlantis," he said. Leaning over and looking at Sheppard's pale face, he noticed the man shivering. "Take it easy colonel. I'll get you some blankets when we get on the jumper."

"Jinto?" He could barely get it out between spells of chattering teeth.

"He's fine, colonel, just the broken arm. He and Halling are already on the ship and waiting to go."

The marines loaded the litter on the jumper and left. A second jumper was on the way to pick up the remaining soldiers. Lorne stopped beside Sheppard on the way to the cockpit. "Glad to see you'll be joining us for the return trip, sir."

John's eyes were barely open. "Thanks, Major. Good job."

Lorne smiled and saluted. "Any time, sir. I just hate it you'll be back in the infirmary."

"Better than the alternative," slurred Sheppard. He looked up at Beckett as he peered worriedly down at him. "Carson . . . get this mark off me, even if you have to cut it out. I can't do this any more."

Beckett smiled tightly as he tucked a blanket in around Sheppard's shivering body and prepared to start an IV. "That won't be necessary."

Teyla smiled down at Sheppard over Beckett's shoulder. "I may have the answer, colonel. I will be seeing to it as soon as we get back to Atlantis."

"Hope so," said John as his eyes slid closed and he lost the battle to stay conscious.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Note:** Sorry for the delay. RL finally caught up with me and I've been fighting the whole "have to have a few hours of sleep" thing. Thanks a million for all the wonderful and entertaining and motivating reviews. This is the last chapter, so you're almost done.

The Bad Luck Charm – Chapter 10

He faded in and out, barely aware of voices and touches, as if they were far removed. The pain in his leg was the only constant, making the other aches scattered across his body seem insignificant. At least until the buzzing started, loud and heavy in his head. He didn't know what it was, but it seemed as if an earthquake was shaking his skull, rattling his teeth from their very sockets. The pain was sharp and intense, almost blotting out the fire in his leg.

"Colonel? I need you stop fighting me and stay still."

He recognized the voice, but he hadn't realized his struggle against the pain had been a physical one. Pulling his eyelids open enough to see, he tried to find words to ask for help. John thought he saw Beckett hovering over him, but his mind felt disconnected from the rest of him, as if wrapped in wool and tucked away. He needed the static in his head that now seemed to radiate down into his body to stop.

Beckett had been running one more check on Sheppard's vitals when the jumper began descending into the jumper bay. The injured man had drifted in and out of consciousness all the way back from the mainland, but lay relatively still. As the jumper neared the floor, Sheppard suddenly began to writhe in the litter, pulling and groaning against the straps that held him secure.

After several seconds of getting no response, the doctor finally got down in his patient's face. "Colonel? I need you to stop fighting me and stay still." He was afraid Sheppard was going to injure himself further if he continued the struggle. The pilot opened his eyes and seemed to hear him, stopping his relentless thrashing. He looked at Beckett through partially open lids a few seconds before taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"Stop it," he whispered before closing his eyes tightly against obvious pain.

Beckett didn't have time to wonder what Sheppard meant, because the back hatch began to slide open at that moment. He could see the requested medical team waiting outside the jumper with a gurney. Before he could move to get up, several marines had latched onto Sheppard's litter and were moving out to the waiting stretcher. The doctor turned to a worried looking Halling and Jinto.

"Halling, do you remember the way to the infirmary?"

Halling nodded. "I remember. I will take care of Jinto and you go with Sheppard. He needs you now."

Beckett nodded, the relief and gratitude evident on his face. "Thanks." Hurrying out the back hatch, he was already on the radio to set things up in the infirmary. He gave a quick wave to Elizabeth as he passed by, walking just behind the gurney, knowing she would understand.

Elizabeth fought the urge to run after Beckett, instead turning to Ronon and Teyla as they emerged from the jumper. "How is he?"

"The Doc says he broke his leg and banged himself up," said Ronon. "He was kind of out of it until just before we landed, then he seemed to get restless."

Teyla nodded. "I am afraid it may be because we are back in Atlantis. Elizabeth, I know of a place that may hold the answers to what has been happening to Colonel Sheppard. I wish permission to visit the place and see if he can be helped."

Elizabeth frowned. "Where did you get this information?"

"While on the mainland, I stayed with Sani, an old friend of Charin. She told me of a world where things such as this are sometimes sold to others. This is a curse against the Ancestors, but since Colonel Sheppard has the gene, I believe it is causing him harm. Sani told me you may also purchase the cure to the poison found in the mark. I wish to go to this world to find more."

Elizabeth was torn, desperately wanting an end to the parade of disasters affecting John, but at the same time, not wanting to endanger Teyla. "How dangerous is this world?"

Teyla slid a glance at Ronon before looking back to Elizabeth. "It can be dangerous if you go to the wrong areas. I will be careful. Please, let me do this for the colonel. He told Dr. Beckett he could not do this any more, and he should not have to."

Elizabeth looked lost in thought for several seconds before looking back at Teyla. "You can go if you take Ronon with you."

Teyla seemed relieved. "I will do as you ask. I have the gate address and would like to leave immediately. I fear we need to be quick for the colonel's sake."

Ronon nodded his agreement and Elizabeth sighed. "All right, let's see you two off and then I'll check on John."

oOo

John felt like someone with an extremely shrill voice was screaming in his ear. He kept trying to open his eyes and focus on the noises and touches, to find out who was screaming. He really needed them to stop because it was becoming unbearable. He was finally able to see enough of the fuzzy blobs around him to discern a face he recognized.

Nick Strauhan pushed a struggling Sheppard back down on the bed. "Colonel, you can't get up. We really need for you to be still." Sheppard kept lunging forward, as if trying to sit or throw himself off the bed. They had the rails up and had already decreed that he was not to be left alone, but he was still scaring the doctor.

Sheppard suddenly stilled and his eyes seemed to focus on Nick. "Tell . . . them . . . to stop."

"Who? Tell who to stop?" Nick wasn't sure if the colonel meant the medical personnel or if he was referring to something else.

"Sc . . . screaming," John said so softly Nick barely heard him. Then he squinted his eyes shut and pushed his head back into the pillow.

Nick looked up at Carson coming up on the other side of the bed. "I have his x-rays and I definitely think surgery is the way to go. We should get him prepped."

Nick glanced at John and hesitated before looking back up at Carson. "I think there's something else going on here. He told me to tell them to stop screaming."

Carson furrowed his brow and looked down at their shifting patient. "Probably something to do with that dang mark and whatever it's doing to his system. I've sent off a new blood sample, but I think we need to go ahead and take care of this. Why don't you take care of Jinto and I'll get Biro to lend me a hand?"

Nick nodded. "Okay, Jinto's x-rays should be back soon. Do you want me talk to the crowd that will undoubtedly be waiting?

Beckett smiled. "Aye, I'd appreciate that. Tell them I'll come see them as soon as we're out of surgery."

"Will do. Uh, Carson, be careful. Watch out for falling foam and big holes in the ground."

Carson looked a bit panicked for a second as he realized that people around Sheppard seemed to get caught up in his disasters sometimes. He had a brief flash of all kinds of things going wrong before he squelched the thoughts and began giving instructions to the nurse.

oOo

Elizabeth leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands. She had come down to the infirmary earlier, only to find they had taken John to surgery. She returned to her office in hopes of getting some work done while simultaneously distracting herself. She smiled as she remembered one of the techs advising her to give it up and just wait with the others in the infirmary after she had sat staring at the same piece of paper for almost an hour. She still had no idea what was on that paper.

Elizabeth jumped as Rodney elbowed her in the side. She looked up at him and saw a slightly frightened, sheepish expression creep across his face as he realized what he'd just done. "Oh, sorry, I, uh, forgot who . . . anyway, Carson is coming." He quickly stood up and moved forward, away from the moment. Elizabeth shook her head lightly and joined him.

Beckett looked at the two people before him and raised his eyebrows. "Is it just you two?"

"Teyla and Ronon have gated to another planet to find a cure for that mark on John, hopefully, any way," reported Elizabeth. "I told Lorne I'd call him when we knew anything and Halling finally convinced Jinto to get something to eat."

Beckett nodded. "Well, he made it through the surgery okay. He was so agitated, we had a problem getting him under enough to perform the surgery. He's now the proud new owner of a titanium rod in his femur, along with a few screws. I'm afraid the recovery time on this will be while, so he's not going to be happy."

They both nodded and breathed out a long breath. Rodney looked back up at Carson. "Can we see him?"

"Not yet. I'd like to get him out of recovery, after which I need to check his arm and give him a new cast. He managed to crack cast number two in the fall. I'll let you know when we've finished working on him. He's a bit of a mess this time."

"_This_ time?" asked Rodney. "Where have you been the other times? This whole thing has been one big mess."

"About that," started Carson. "Have you figured any of this out yet?"

Rodney smiled smugly. "As a matter of fact, I think I have, but I'm not telling until I check a couple of things out. I need to be sure before I share." His expression sobered as he paused. "I just hope Teyla finds that cure, because while I think I can explain what's been happening, I'm no closer to figuring out how to stop it."

oOo

John felt disconnected. Sounds faded in and out, but were never clear or close. They always sounded like he was under water or had his head in a jar. Sometimes he could feel things touch him, moving him or hurting him, but he never knew what they were. Blurry and distorted images, almost like reflections in a funhouse mirror came and went, but he was never sure if they were dreams or if they were real. His body hurt and his head threatened to explode until he seemed incapable of thought, only of trying to withstand the anguish that tore at his every fiber.

Teyla. He realized he was watching her and she was talking to him, although he couldn't seem to process what she was saying. He was only aware of her voice, calming and soothing him. He stared blankly at her, unable to comprehend her actions. Then she was touching him, making the mark on his chest cold and then hot. He was not aware when he groaned and pulled away, the heat making him gasp for breath. The vision was lost as he felt himself sinking into unawareness again as hands held him and kept him from struggling one more time.

oOo

The first thing he was aware of was the humming. He felt the tension in his body beginning to ease as he let himself go with the melodic song, dozing in and out without ever coming to complete awareness. When he was finally ready to open his eyes, he knew everything was all right. The screaming static in his head was gone and Atlantis was singing to him again.

He lay quietly, observing the collection of sleeping forms around him in the dim, early morning light. Rodney was lying in the adjacent bed, snoring rather loudly. Elizabeth and Teyla were in chairs backed up to Rodney's bed, their heads leaned back, resting against the side of the mattress. Ronon sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed in his usual form, feet propped up on the lower bed rails and head nodding toward his chest. John couldn't help but smile as he decided the big man would probably have serious neck issues when he woke up.

"Welcome back."

John slowly turned his head toward the source of the whispered voice. Nick grinned down at him as he checked his IV. "How long have they been here?"

Nick glanced around at John's team. "Better part of two days for the most part, and they've been a rough two days. How are you feeling?"

John took an easy breath. "Better than I have in a while, I think." He looked up into Nick's face. "The mark's gone, isn't it?" Even as he asked, he brought his left hand up to feel a bandage over the area with the mark, feeling a mild burning pain underneath.

Nick tilted his head slightly and raised his eyebrows. "Yes, it is. How did you know?"

John just smiled, his face more relaxed than it had been in over a week. "She's singing to me again, welcoming me back I think."

"Atlantis?"

"Yeah. It's . . . like finally being home again. What happened?" John was thinking the bandage and pain meant that Carson had done as he asked and cut the thing out.

"You owe Teyla for that one. Sani told her of a planet to go to for help and she found the cure there. It turns out there is a mixture of plant extracts in the paint that Karyan lady used to make the mark and they interact with the Ancient gene to cause the bad luck you've been having. There is another mixture of different plant extracts . . . " Nick paused and made a face. ". . . along with some other things you don't want to know about, that can dissolve the stuff right out of the skin. Actually, I think it was closer to chemically burning it off the skin, but anyway, it got rid of it. It's bandaged because you have the equivalent of a pretty nasty chemical burn."

John nodded. "I don't care, if it stops this endless parade of disasters that has become my life."

"Yeah, that's kind of what we thought you'd say."

John frowned for a moment. "I understand how a chemical in my blood could mess up my temperature and I can imagine how that chemical working against the Ancient gene could maybe result in the fire retardant being dumped on me and the puddle jumper not functioning, but how could it have had anything to do with the rest of that stuff?"

Nick shook his head. "Dr. McKay has explained what he thinks happened, but I'm not even going to try. I would probably mess it up and besides, he doesn't take kindly to other people explaining his theories."

The corner of one side of John's mouth turned up in his trademark lopsided grin. "Yeah, he'd probably make you regret that one. I'll just wait til sleeping beauty over there decides to take a break from his snore-fest." John looked around the infirmary. "What about Jinto? He go back to the mainland?"

Nick chuckled. "Hardly. He refused to go back until he had a chance to talk to you. He said you had to sign each other's cast. Halling was perfectly willing to stay and make sure you were okay once we told him we had plenty of room and wanted them to stay. They should be by later."

John nodded. "I'm just glad he's okay. I feel like it's my fault since I'm the one having the bad luck. Poor Jinto was just hanging out with the wrong person. Did someone get him a marker of some kind? I told him about the Earth tradition of signing someone's cast."

"Oh, yes, he informed us straightway that Colonel Sheppard said he could have a Sharpie to get his cast signed, so we came up with several colors for him. He's been happily collecting signatures for the past two days when he wasn't here checking on you."

John grinned, glad that Jinto didn't seem any worse for wear after their little incident. He noticed that the ache in his leg was starting to ratchet up, along with the more minor pains that were scattered around the rest of his body. "What about my leg?"

Nick sighed. "I was wondering when you'd get around to that. You fractured your femur, so we put in a titanium rod and several screws to stabilize it. It should get you up and moving faster and easier than a cast, but you're not going to be doing any running or active duty for a while."

John grimaced and shifted slightly in the bed. "How long are we talking?"

"Several months before you running or doing anything very strenuous. I'm afraid you're in for some physical therapy to get you back on your feet."

"Yeah, I figured as much." John tried to shift again, the pain in his leg beginning to get on his nerves.

Nick looked at his watch. "Kelly will be here with your next round of pain meds in a few minutes. Can you hold out til then?"

John nodded. "I'm good."

"SR for Sheppard," said Rodney from the room as he stifled a yawn.

"What's SR?" asked Nick.

"Standard response," said Ronon, sitting up in his chair and setting his feet back down on the floor. He stood and stretched, moving his head around to work the kinks out of his neck.

The additional movement and talking had wakened Elizabeth and Teyla as well and they also sat up straighter, moving around to stretch their cramped muscles. Elizabeth noticed John and jumped to her feet. "John, you're awake!"

John smiled lazily. "Yeah, it happens occasionally."

Teyla also moved closer to the bed to stand by the expedition leader. "You have seemed to be in much distress the last two days and we were greatly worried. I am glad that you seem better."

"He's even coherent . . . more or less," commented Rodney as he took his place behind the ladies.

"Thanks, Rodney," said Sheppard in an annoyed tone. He shifted again, trying to find a position that didn't make either his arm or his leg hurt. That position apparently didn't exist. A groan escaped his lips when he jarred his leg. A hand on his shoulder stilled him from further movement.

"Colonel," Nick said as he held his shoulder still. "Are you hurting?"

John was painfully aware of the concerned faces and listening ears surrounding his bed. He hated admitting pain or weakness to the doctor, much less an audience of his friends. "I'll be fine."

Nick grinned. "That's not what I asked you, but I think I can guess the real answer. I'll see what's keeping Kelly." He patted Sheppard's shoulder and walked away from the bed.

John looked up at Rodney, wanting to shift the conversation in another direction. "Nick said you figured out how the chemical was causing my bad luck. Care to fill me in?"

Rodney beamed, anxious to share his findings with the colonel. "I'd love to." The others surrounding the bed rolled their eyes and sighed, having heard the explanation at least three times each. "There is a chemical, or rather a mixture of chemicals, in the mark Karyan put on you that we know interferes with the Ancient gene. What's weird is the way it interacts with it. You know how the Ancients had great powers like levitating things and healing people and directing bursts of energy, right?"

John closed his eyes and sighed briefly. "Six months trapped with a bunch of people trying to ascend, Rodney. Yes, I know they had powers we don't really understand."

Rodney stood with his mouth open a second. "Oh . . . right . . . forgot about that. Anyway, they directed these things with their mind and utilized the gene to enhance or push the actions. You gave off a bit of an energy signature during this fiasco that spiked when bad things happened, like the foam burying you. It's my belief that the chemical caused the gene to seek out negative things and enhance their happening on a subconscious level. The foam, for example. Radek and I found a fault in the system that discharged on you. It would have done that eventually anyway, but the energy sent out by your gene activation caused it go ahead and happen to you."

John frowned, not sure he understood any of this and not sure he was buying any of it. "That sounds kind of . . . unlikely, McKay."

Rodney shook his head. "Not really. The puddle jumper that wouldn't work? It had a problem in the drive system, but your drugged up gene caused the problem to go crisis a little earlier. The other jumper didn't have any built in problems, so it got you to the mainland, no problem."

John made a doubtful face. "Explain the food poisoning."

Rodney grinned and crossed his arms, rising to the challenge. "You were the only one in line that night that even saw the potato salad. Not even the staff saw it when they cleaned up after lunch. I think it was in a weird, hidden place and the gene led you to it. As for the laundry detergent, I think it probably enhanced your negative response. Carson said you had the worse reaction of anyone and you're never allergic to stuff. It isn't creating bad situations, just enhancing the probability that when problems exist, they reach the critical stage when you're around."

Teyla had been listening with increasing interest. Rodney had explained his theory to them, but hadn't elaborated on each situation. "What about the fighting soldiers?"

"Easy," said McKay. "They were fighting and giving off all sorts of negative emotions. The gene picked up on that and directed it toward the colonel. It was probably just dumb luck that he was standing in front of a staircase at the time."

Sheppard still looked extremely doubtful. "So you're saying that sinkhole would have opened up on the mainland at some point anyway, but me being there just sped it up."

Rodney nodded. "Yep. As a matter of fact, we had a team survey the soil in the area around the Athosian camp and they said the ground in that whole field is of an odd composition and very unstable. They found two other spots like it and have warned the Athosians about them. Fortunately, they aren't in areas traveled frequently by them."

John rubbed the side of his head, closing his eyes and wincing at the increasing pain in his leg. "I don't know Rodney. It's still all conjecture."

The smile faded from Rodney's face as he noticed the pain on Sheppard's. He turned to Elizabeth. "Where's Nick with the good drugs?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, but stopped when they saw Nick approaching. Lines of tension were visible around his eyes and mouth.

"Colonel Sheppard, I'm sorry for the delay. The door to the drug room seems to be locked and stuck. We've got someone on their way to look at it, but all the narcotics are in there. I can give you something milder now or you can hold out til we get the room open."

"Maybe I can help," John said softly. He would never admit it out loud, but he really wanted something to knock the pain back far enough that he could breathe without wanting to scream. He closed his eyes and visualized the drug room door opening while pleading with Atlantis to help him. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and looked up at Nick. "Go try it now."

Nick hadn't gone but a handful of steps when Kelly came quickly through the door with a syringe. "We got it open and I've got the colonel's morphine."

Nick looked back at John in amazement. "You were right. She is glad to have you back."

oOo

Rodney had been shocked when Carson told him where John was. Mostly he'd been amazed that the doctor let Sheppard out of the infirmary, even if it was only for a few minutes. He stepped out onto the balcony, first seeing the nurse sitting in the lawn chair reading a book. She looked up and smiled at him and nodded toward the figure in the wheelchair.

It had been a week since Sheppard woke from the surgery, coherent for the first time in two days. They had watched him thrash and moan, as if caught in the midst of a frightening and physically painful nightmare for those two days. Four hours and twenty-seven minutes after Teyla had rubbed that pasty, stinky goo on his chest, he'd gone still and quiet, scaring them all. The instructions were that when that happened, they were to remove the concoction. Beckett hadn't been very happy at the severely reddened and blistered skin under the goop until they realized it had actually removed the mark.

Rodney stood quietly in the balcony doorway, watching the recovering man, sitting in the wheelchair with his head leaned back against a pillow shoved partially behind his shoulders. His right leg was elevated and his arm was back in a sling. Carson said he had banged it up some when he fell in the hole. A blanket covered his lap and his hair gently moved in the light wind. Rodney at first thought the colonel was asleep, he was so quiet and still. But as he studied the pale features, he noticed John's eyes were open about halfway.

Rodney walked over to the nurse. "I'll bring him in."

The nurse smiled and looked at her watch. "Okay, but no longer than ten minutes. Dr. Beckett wants him to get something to eat and rest a bit before his physical therapy."

Rodney nodded. "Okay, ten minutes." He glared at the nurse as she stood looking at him, her brows furrowed. "What? You think I can't tell time?"

She closed her book on the carefully placed bookmark. "You _have_ been known to not take note of the time on occasion. I'd highly suggest this not be one of those times. Dr. Beckett is keeping a close eye on the colonel this time around."

"Yes, yes, I know. We'll be there in ten minutes. I can build a nuclear weapon, for heaven's sake, I think I can wheel a man back to the infirmary without damaging him."

The nurse looked skeptical, but nodded and left them alone. Rodney grabbed her lawn chair and pulled it up to sit beside Sheppard, who as far as he could tell, hadn't moved an inch. "I'm surprised Carson let you out of the infirmary."

"Just needed a few minutes outside." John continued to stare at the horizon, lids at half mast, as if he might drift off at any moment.

"You're quiet," commented Rodney. Sheppard had been quiet all week and it was starting to freak Rodney out.

John sat watching the water for several seconds before answering. "Nothing to say right now."

"People are starting to talk, to wonder if this is the one that drove Sheppard over the edge."

A small smile flickered across his lips. "People will always talk about something. I'm okay, Rodney, just thinking about some things."

Rodney frowned as he studied the man closely. He didn't expect Sheppard to tell him if things weren't fine, so he felt the need to see for himself. Problem was, he couldn't always read the colonel. "What are you thinking about?"

"Hard stuff . . . luck, fate, home . . . friends." He turned his head so that he could see Rodney.

Rodney looked down at his feet. "I'm . . . sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you on the mainland."

John smiled, an easy laid-back smile. "You were where you needed to be, here, trying to find an answer."

Rodney ran one hand through his hair as he sighed deeply. "Not that it did any good, not really."

"Don't sell yourself short, McKay. Everyone did their part. I'm back in Atlantis and she's talking to me again. Nothing new has happened in the last week, so this curse thing seems to be genuinely over. It'll take a while, but I'll be okay again." He chuckled, but it sounded strained. "Just not for a long while. Piece of advice for future reference. Try not to break your arm and your leg at the same time. With crutches out, I'm stuck in this thing for who knows how long."

McKay nodded absently. "I can help you get around, once Carson lets you out, that is."

"Might not be for a while. I can't get up and down by myself and he doesn't want me left alone."

Sheppard seemed depressed at the total lack of privacy and Rodney remembered how intensely closed he could be about some things. "Maybe when you're stronger he'll let me take you out on a day pass kind of thing and bring you back when we're done."

John looked back at Rodney, the lop-sided grin in place. "You'd do that?"

The grin made Rodney feel better than he thought it should. Funny how that one little thing seemed to signal that maybe everything would be all right. "Sure. We could go harass Zelenka or make fun of Lorne or something equally obnoxious."

John smiled and leaned his head back against the pillow. "That'd be great. I have this really bad feeling I'm going to go stir crazy before this is over. I've already spent so much time in the infirmary lately that I'm about to lose my mind."

They sat watching the waves below for a few minutes, just enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sounds of the water. It seemed very soothing, in direct contrast to recent events.

"Do you believe in luck?" asked John suddenly.

Rodney thought for a moment before answering. "I don't know. I think things happen sometimes that are beyond our control, and that sometimes those things are good and sometimes they're bad. I think your chances for one are as good as the other. Why, do you?"

Sheppard frowned, uncertainty filling his expression as well as his voice. "Like you, basically. I think we make our own luck most of the time. Sometimes I feel like the bad stuff follows me and then I realize I caused it most of the time. But then I realize that I've walked away from a lot of stuff I shouldn't have, and in two galaxies to boot. By all rights, I should probably be dead. I guess there's just some things you can't control."

"Like having the ATA gene," said Rodney.

John nodded. "Yeah, like the ATA gene. I still haven't completely decided if that would classified as good luck or bad luck."

Rodney smiled as he looked at John. "If you could choose to give it up right now, would you?"

John looked at him as he listened to Atlantis sing and felt her almost stroking him. "No. At this point, it would be like cutting off my leg."

Rodney smiled as he stood and released the brakes on the wheelchair. "Then you have your answer."

THE END

_Thanks, guys!_


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